Unholy Trinity Academy
by rakestrawberry
Summary: AU. Quinn Fabray is shipped off to an all girls boarding school. Down the rabbit hole lies her new cohorts, Brittany Pierce and Santana Lopez; her welcoming committee, Rachel Berry, and her bizarre headmistress, Sue Sylvester. Faberry. Brittana. HIATUS.
1. Cruel and Unusual Punishment

Dear Mr. And Mrs. Fabray,

We are pleased to inform that your daughter, Lucy Fabray, has been accepted entry to the Holy Trinity Boarding Academy for Young Ladies for the academic year of 2011-12. Enclosed in this letter is a student identification card to be given to your daughter.

In order to attend Holy Trinity Boarding Academy, a set of rules and guidelines are in place to assure your daughter receives a fruitful educational experience during her stay.

Your daughter will be forced to discontinue her stay at the academy if:

She fails in the same class for two consecutive years.

She is disobedient and/or disrespectful towards staff members.

She is a dubious moral character.

Irregular attendance.

She distributes harmful, obscene literature.

She leaves the school without the expressed permission of the headmistress.

Habitual late payments by parents.

She damages school property.

Pupils must leave and return to the academy at the stipulated dates during school holidays.

The dress code for the alumni are as follows, except on special occasions:

Black school blazer with the appropriate monogram.

Gray pleated skirt, two inches below the knee.

White collar blouse.

Navy sweater vest and/or cardigan with the appropriate monogram.

Black penny loafers.

Black school tie.

Only navy, white, black or grey hair ribbons, hair ties and hair bands are permitted.

For physical education classes, the uniform is as follows:

White collared t-shirt with appropriate monogram.

Navy Adidas tracksuit.

White canvas shoes. Sneakers are not permitted.

We look forward to your daughter's attendance given she respects the rules and guidelines of this prestigious academy.

Regards,

Headmistress,

Sue Sylvester

Quinn blinked around at her room, knowing one day she would come to think of it as her cell. It's what she did with every room she'd ever lived in. Her quiet, polished bedroom in her parents' house had become a prison where her mistakes bounced off the walls. As much as she tried to make it her own during the summer, she couldn't, and just left her belongings to sit in their suitcases. Unpacking only seemed pointless, knowing she would be forced out again once the summer ended.

Puck's bedroom had definitely been a prison, with walls of dirty laundry and strewn garbage keeping her captive and his mother pacing outside the door like a warden.

Nothing much compared to this, though. This cell was the size of her mother's walk-in closet, with twin beds parallel each other, gray bedspreads tucked tightly into the sides.

Quinn was trying to take a new direction in life, and the first stop was to end her shallow ways, but she couldn't break out of the notion that you could learn a lot about a person by their belongings, and Quinn figured that her room-mate must either be a lunatic or a five year old, by the looks of it. A Hello Kitty pillow was thrown on the bed, with her desk rife with sticky spots where jolly ranchers had melted and latched themselves into the wooden cracks.

Quinn could hardly imagine bunking with someone so ... sticky. The only time she ever shared a bedroom with anyone were those long few weeks last year, in Puckerman's house, and even though she wrinkled her nose at the sight of dirty underwear hanging on the corner of his TV screen and Cheetoh dust in the crevices of his carpet, she kind of missed the memory of him curling over her in the big spoon position with his chin tucked over her shoulder and his warm hands over her big round stomach.

She shook as she realized she was standing in her dimly lit dorm room, staring into space. She couldn't let sweet memories engulf her like that. She made a promise to herself she would keep moving forward. It made no sense to want to get stuck in a past that caused so much pain.

Quinn turned, hearing three light-knuckled knocks on her door. She opened it and glanced down at a shorter girl with a beaming smile, and a head of copper brown hair held back by a thick grey headband.

"You must be Lucy Fabray," beamed the girl, her brown eyes wide and emphatic.

"Quinn," she corrected, "You can call me Quinn."

With the smile still plastered on her optimistic face, the girl just beyond the threshold of Quinn's bedroom door raised a confused eyebrow.

"Okay, Quinn it is, then. My name is Rachel Berry," Rachel leaned forward and held out her hand, saying her name with such enunciation that she must have thought Quinn had hearing problems, "I'm a core member of the student council and president of the welcoming committee, and I've been assigned to be your guide during these understandably hectic first few weeks at the academy."

Quinn eyed Rachel Berry up and down. Although most students she'd seen had hitched their skirts up until they were minis, Rachel Berry had hers down at the regulated two inches below the knee. Her grey cable knit socks met the hem of the skirt so that not one fraction of the girl's legs were on display. Quinn noted that this girl was the model Holy Trinity student - literally. She remembered her picture in the brochure - a wide-eyed girl sitting at the edge of a monstrous water fountain in the courtyard, smiling at the camera. Quinn could recognize that nose anywhere.

"You're the girl from the brochure," Quinn mumbled without thinking.

Rachel smiled and sighed, with amused exhaustion, as if she was recognized everywhere she went for being the face of an obscure Catholic boarding school for girls in Ohio.

"That I am," nodded Rachel, shrugging her shoulders under her heavy black blazer, "The brochures were redone last year for the first time since 1975 because the headmistress thought the Farrah Fawcett hair style was off putting. And who better to model for the brochure than the prefect with this best meret track?"

"They give merets here?"

Rache frowned, and shook her head. "Not exactly. Headmistress Sylvester doesn't believe in praise - only punishment. But I've never recieved a demerit in the two years I've attended Holy Trinity, and that's a lot to say for some people here. Speaking of Headmistress Sylvester, as well as welcoming you to the academy, I was also told to escort you to the headmistress's office."

"Did I do something?" asked Quinn, pulling at the sleeve of her navy cardigan.

"Oh, no," Rachel laughed, "Ms. Sylvester just wants to welcome you to our school."

Sue Sylvester had a strange way of welcoming people.

Quinn fidgeted in the polyester seat as Sue sat opposite her, glaring in her direction.

"Um, did I ... do something?" asked Quinn, because she didn't imagine the welcoming process involved staring down a person in complete silence.

But the staring continued. Quinn's eyes swivelled around the room, because the tension between her and Ms. Sylvester's intense glare was unbearable. Quinn noted the odd things in Ms. Sylvester's office. A stuffed bear loomed over them from the corner, and most of the shelf space was taken up with first place trophies. Of what, Quinn couldn't tell. She began to grow bored of Ms. Sylvester's silent staring, and stared back at the tall woman, until they'd been staring into each other's unflinching eyes for nearly a minute.

"You've got chops, kid," Ms. Sylvester finally said, startling Quinn as the silence was broken.

"Excuse me?"

"Adolf Hitler would stand in at least three minutes of utter silence before giving a speech. It gave room for anticipation to grow, and soiled the underpants of his flabbergasted enemies. He would much rather be feared than respected, and I, Sue Sylvester, yearn for the same."

Quinn blinked. Was her headmistress comparing herself to Hitler?

"So, Lucy Fabray," sighed Sue Sylvester, flipping through the thick pages of a bulky roll book, "I had a meeting with your parents not long ago. Odd pair; smelt like almonds. So far what I know about your horrid back story is that your uppety God-fearing parents have decided to dump you here, in my reknowned academy, because of the disappointment you caused them after getting knocked up by a mohawked grease monkey. Is it true the baby was born part lizard?"

Quinn opened her mouth and closed it again, unsure of how to respond.

"Of course not," Sue Sylvester answered herself, "Worse. It was born part Jewish. I also noted that your parents kept calling you Quinn. Care to explain?"

"I told them to call me Quinn," she shrugged, "Everyone calls me Quinn. I just ... prefer it."

Sue nodded. "I like that, Q. May I call you, Q? Scratch that, I don't care. I always believed that a person should name themselves instead of sticking with the name a couple of religious nuts gave you when you barely even a person. As soon as I could I had my name legally changed to Sue Sylvester from Sharon Stone, and I never looked back."

Quinn blinked at the headmistress. She figured it was better not to talk and let the woman spew her nonsense.

"I want you to know, Q, that I'll be keeping a watchful eye on you. As fascinating a mess as I find you, I'll have no problem kicking your now much less firm behind back to Podunk, Ohio, if I see that you step out of line. There are rules upon rules that I expect you to know like the stretch marks that envelope your body, but as long as you keep up with the key three - no booze, no boys, no pheasant blouses - you're most likely good to go. Now scram, I've got my journal entries to fill out."

Quinn blinked and rose from her seat, slightly disoriented after that whirl of a welcome speech. She didn't even notice Rachel waiting outside the door as she left in a daze.

"How did it go?" Rachel smiled as she hopped up to the taller girl's side, smiling with every fraction of her face.

"Um, Ms. Sylvester is nice ... and strange. And a little anti-Semetic."

Rachel frowned. "Well, she does have a tendency to be a little eccentric, but some say that aides her in maintaining rule of a school with as little experience as she has when it comes to education management."

"What was she doing before she became a principal?" asked Quinn as Rachel led her back down the path to her dorm room.

"She coached cheerleading at a local public school, but since she started running Holy Trinity Academy, she coaches the fencing team here. I'm surprised she ever took this job in the first place, though. She's not even Catholic. Then again, neither am I."

Quinn nodded along, pleased to see the door to her bedroom, because this conversation was utterly boring.

"Would you like me to take you to procure your textbooks from the library?" Rachel asked eagerly.

Quinn smiled and shook her head. "No, thanks, Rachel. I'm just going to settle down in my room and get unpacked."

Rachel nodded with slight disappointment and watched Quinn disappear into her dorm room. Quinn sighed with her back against the closed door, hoping that not everyone here was a Rachel Berry-alike. There was only so much in the world of the bizarre that Quinn could take. That is, until she looked up and saw a unicorn on her room-mate's bed. Quinn blinked and shook her her head. It was a gigantic stuffed unicorn, with rounded purple hooves and a silly expression. The stuffed animal was being hugged tight by a girl on the bed, with long blond hair held up tight in a brushed back ponytail.

"You must be Brittany," said Quinn, remembering the name of her room-mate printed on one of the sheets she'd received from the school; Brittany Susan Pierce.

"I am Brittany!" exclaimed the girl, pleasantly surprised to be known.

Brittany hopped up off of her bed, her ponytail bouncing, as Quinn looked her up and down. Her white socks sunk down her ankles and her skirt was hitched up so high, Quinn was afraid there was going to be some unwanted flashes of underwear.

Brittany held out her hand, her nails painted the colours of the rainbow, as a necklace fell out from under her shirt collar. It was half a sterling silver heart that said 'Friends' on it, and Quinn wondered who had the other half. Probably the unicorn.

"Nice to meet you," Quinn muttered, shaking her new roommate's firm hand.

"I'm nice to meet," smiled Brittany, "Do you want some candy?"

Brittany fished a sticky red Twizzler out from her pillow case, fabric fibers stuck to the stick of licorice.

"No, thanks," Quinn wrinkled her nose and took a seat at the edge of her bed, looking down at the luggage she'd left on the floor.

"Do you want help unpacking?" asked Brittany, stuffing the licorice back into her Hello Kitty pillow.

"No, I'll just leave it for later. Thanks," said Quinn.

"I love unpacking. It's like unwrapping presents."

Quinn pursed her lips, and nodded distantly. "Presents you already own..."

Brittany fell back onto her bed with a coy smile. "You're really pretty," she smiled, propping her head on her hand and staring at Quinn, "Like school girl Barbie."

"Thank you," Quinn said quietly, stroking the ends of her blond hair absent mindedly, "So what do you do here, when you're not in class?"

Brittany twirled the ends of her ponytail around her finger and lay down on her stomach, her legs waggling in the air behind her as she thought.

"Well... There are clubs and stuff. Like, I'm on the fencing team. And the lacrosse team, and soccer."

"So you're really into sports?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Brittany sighed, "Mostly, I just hang out with my best friend."

"Oh," Quinn said, looking down at her immaculate nails, "That's nice."

Brittany jumped up on her knees on the bed, her sea blue eyes widening with excitement.

"Let me show you to her!"

"To, who?"

"To Santana! She's my best friend! Oh, I'm so excited!"

Brittany leaped up and clutched Quinn's arm, pulling her off the bed and dragging her out of their room. Quinn frowned as she truly did begin to feel like School Girl Barbie, her room-mate's latest toy.

xxx

Santana breathed in the bitter smoke of her cigarette, and sighed like she was shedding a mound of relief. With her back against the stony wall of the academy, she felt grateful for the pack she'd secured earlier this month, praying she could make it last until she got more. Very few things kept her sane in this hell hole, and smoking was one of them. Another, was escaping every once in a while. She could only stare at the same four walls for so long before she felt the urge to blow her brains out. So far this September, the only times she's been out of this dump was during the weekend when they were allowed to take the bus into the sorry excuse for a town twenty minutes away. Thankfully, her bros at the boys' academy had been able to secure some booze. Ah, that's another thing that kept her sane. Alcohol. She yearned for the bitter taste of tequila the more she thought about it.

As she heard the crunch of gravel under someone's footsteps approaching her hideaway behind the school building, she hurriedly blew smoke out of her mouth and squished her cigarette butt under her foot.

"Santana!" called Brittany with a wide smile on her innocent face.

Santana smiled as her best friend toted another girl along with her. The fresh faced blond had her hair down around her shoulders, with a tight-lipped frown imprinted on her face. Just as Santana suspected, Brittany had dragged along another new kid to play Show and Tell with. Santana just shook her head and smiled, genuinely happy to see the girl, because Brittany was another thing that kept her sane. She was perhaps the most effective thing.

"Who's this?" asked Santana, crossing her arms over her black leather jacket - because that school blazer was so unflattering.

"This is my room-mate, um, uh..."

"Quinn," said the modest blond.

Santana grimaced. The new chick had a nasally voice and a pretentious frown. That wasn't a good sign.

"What are you in for?" asked Santana, staring down Quinn who was still being gripped tightly by Brittany.

Quinn's frown deepened as she glanced at the gravelly ground.

"My parents are hard core Catholics, so..."

Santana smirked. She knew when a person lied to her, but she shrugged and accepted the lame excuse.

"Sure. Whatever," she grinned subtly.

"Doesn't she look like a Barbie, Santana?" asked Brittany, obviously excited by her new life sized toy.

"What about you?" asked Quinn, tugging her sleeve away from Brittany's grip, "What are you in for?"

Santana blinked. "Same as you. My 'rents are major Jesus freaks."

"Sure. Whatever," Quinn frowned.

A smile rose from ear to ear on Santana's face. She couldn't say she liked Quinn, but she had to respect the newbie at least a little. And if she didn't, she was at least excited by what could come out of a new arrival in this abysmal penitentiary.

"Alright," Santana shrugged, "If you really want to know, my parents only turn to God when it's convenient for them. For example, to pray for their deluded lesbian daughter. I guess God's method for curing my gay was to send me to a prison full of chicks. Ironic, huh?"

Quinn shifted on her feet, looking uncomfortable. "Not what ironic means, but whatever," she mumbled.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Sounds like we've got another Berry on our hands," she sighed to Brittany.

"No, you don't!" Quinn snapped, glaring at Santana.

The Latina was stunned a moment. Firstly, because no one snapped at Santana Lopez. Secondly, because it was a little unexpected that that troll Rachel Berry had already sunk her teeth into the new girl and repulsed her to the point of being offended by being compared to her. Or maybe it was just common knowledge that no one wanted to be a Rachel Berry. An overachieving, over eager, grammar Nazi with a Jew nose and hideous penny loafers.

"Alright. Prove it," smirked Santana.

Quinn furrowed her brow. "Prove what?"

"That you're not another holier than thou teacher's pet. Tell me what you really got sent here for."

Quinn glanced at Brittany and shook her head. "I don't have anything to prove to you," she said to the floor and stalked off tensely, her head down.

"San, you scared away my new friend," Brittany pouted as they watched Quinn walk back into the school from the back entrance.

"It's okay, Britt," Santana smiled, sliding her arms around her friend in a loose hug, "You have me. Latin Barbie."

Brittany smiled, her blue eyes sparkling.

xxx

Quinn was beginning to feel her face flush, her cheeks getting pink with embarrassment as she stormed through the hallways of the academy, unsure of where she was headed. She found herself surprised by what a short amount of time it took for her to wish she was anywhere but here. When she was a little girl, she used to think boarding school sounded amazing. A big, fancy establishment where she could have a slumber party with her friends every night and only had to visit her judgemental parents on the holidays. She never imagined she would be sent here against her will, and with no friends at all. She felt like she had fallen down the rabbit hole, and now everything in this place was bizarre. Her headmistress spoke in riddles, her roommate had the mind of a toddler and the only other people she'd met were the over eager hobbit and the skinny Latin chick who thought she was so much more badass than she really was. Quinn hated being the new girl. Back at her old school, she was the queen, but now she had to rebuild her reputation from scratch.

She shook the bad thoughts out of her head and decided to head to the library. As well as collecting her textbooks for the semester, she could probably find some solace in a quiet room full of books. She found her way quickly past her schoolmates and headed into the completely empty library. A shiver ran down her back as she stepped in, her soft heels thudding against the dark hardwood floor. Bookcases rose all the way up to the top of the high ceiling, the shelves caked with dust. Beside a section of computers was the librarian's desk, but there was no one behind it save for a slightly ajar door.

Quinn tapped the bell on the desk and like clockwork, a boy appeared from the door. Quinn blinked in surprise. She was expecting a spidery ancient old woman to be the librarian of this old academy, but there he was, an unexpectedly handsome boy with wavy black hair, gray eyes and a trace of a subtle smirk on his thin lips.

"May I help you?" he asked, his voice smooth and solid.

"Y-Yes. I'm new, and I'm here to pick up my textbooks," Quinn forced out of her mouth, trying not to let her surprise make her look like a stammering idiot.

"What's your name?" he said, turning to the outdated white computer on his desk.

"Quinn Fabray. Lucy, Quinn Fabray," said Quinn, as the boy entered her name in the database. She wondered how much older he was than her.

"Pretty name, Quinn," he said, looking back up with his piercing gray eyes, "I'm Jesse."

"Nice to meet you," she mumbled as he hunkered down to lift a pile of textbooks under the desk, and slide them towards her on the surface.

"Thank you," she said quietly, and collected the pile in her arms.

"No problem, Quinn," he smiled, watching her balance the books in her hold.

Quinn glanced at collection of computer desks to their side. "Do you mind if I...?" she nodded to them.

"Go right ahead," he gestured, and turned back to his computer, a sly smile on his lips the whole time.

Her hope pricked up just a little as she took a seat at the computer, silence engulfing the library accept for the hum of the PCs. Even if the rest of this academy was like a bizarrely boring Wonderland, perhaps gawking at Jesse the Librarian would be an escape.

Quinn didn't let her hands stay idle and quickly checked her e-mail. Her disappointment that neither of her parents had checked up on her was quickly washed away by the clenching feeling her stomach at the amount of e-mails sent by Puck.

Curiousity got the best of her and she ended up reading all of them. Most of them just inquiring where she'd been all summer and where she was now, and some exclaiming his love for the girl. She loathed herself for being so sentimental and saving some of the more touching ones. The last one she read over at least five times, blinking vacantly at the computer screen.

Q,

Don't be mad.

I went to your folks place to see where you were. I knew if your dad was there he would have killed me with whatever snuffed that stuffed deer's head in your living room, but since it's just your mom, she let me in. She didn't look too cool about seeing me, but whatever. I needed to know where you were. She told me about the boarding school. Man, that sucks. Why didn't you tell me? The last time we talked was when Beth was born and I told you that I loved you. Why won't you answer my e-mails? If it's because you don't love me back, tell me, but if it's because you think we can't work, then let me prove that we can. I'll drive down to Warsaw this weekend so we can talk. Please say you'll meet me somewhere. I need to see you. Quinn, I love you.

Puck.

Quinn bit the inside of her cheek and read it over and over. Every 'I love you' healed just a little bit of her wounds, but wasn't enough to glue her heart back together. Nothing was.

Quinn realized that while her eyes had been glued to the monitor, Rachel Berry had entered and was chatting to Jesse the Librarian with ease, as if the two had known each other for some time. She gestured emphatically with her hands as he leaned against his desk, listening intently, as if he wasn't a faculty member and rather another school boy with a crush. Quinn wondered how they knew each other, and what Jesse saw in Rachel, because he obviously saw something. Not that Rachel was a completely undesirable girl, but as Quinn had suspected, she was obliviously unpopular with her classmates. No one wanted to be Rachel Berry, or be seen with her.

"Oh, hello, Quinn," Rachel smiled as she looked the girl's way.

Quinn flipped off the monitor, embarassed to be caught staring.

"Hi," she mumbled, and collected her books.

"How have you been finding the school?" Rachel asked enthusiastically, "Would you like me to escort you anywhere?"

"No, thank you," said Quinn, and hurried out of the library.

She didn't like that she was trapped in Holy Trinity Academy, but she was going to make the best of it, and she would start by not walking head first into a life of loserdom. Yes, thought Quinn, What am I if not a leader? The only way to get through these next two years is to reclaim my rightful status as Head Bitch in Charge. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

But where did one start when it came to becoming Head Bitch? She thought back to the start of her glory days at McKinley High back in Lima, and decided she had to get organized. She needed to make a list. Quinn let a smile escape her lips as she entered her dorm room with her textbooks in her arms. Quinn loved making lists.

Quinn set her textbooks down on her desk as she glanced at Brittany, pulling accessories out of the suitcase under her bed.

"What are you doing Brittany?" Quinn asked cautiously.

Brittany turned and smirked at her room-mate. The oblivious blond wasn't in her regulated school uniform, but an oversized t-shirt with one sleeve pulled over her slender shoulder, a pair of black pinstripe shorts with matching suspenders. The girl's hair was crimped into wild beach curls that cascaded around her shoulders.

"I'm going to a party," smiled Brittany, bringing one finger to her lips, "Shhh."

Quinn grinned. "You're sneaking out tonight."

"You can't tell on us."

"Of course I won't," smiled Quinn.

"Do you want to come with us?"

"No, thank you," said Quinn as she pulled a legal pad and a ballpoint pen out of one of her rucksacks.

"Okey dokey," Brittany shrugged, and pushed open their bedroom window.

"Are your sure you should do that?" asked Quinn, nervously eyeing the window that her roommate was about to crawl out of.

"Don't worry. I'm, like, an expert," Brittany smiled, winked, and boosted herself out, lowering herself down the drain.

Quinn shook her head and sat back on her bed with her pen at the ready. One thing she wasn't going to do was sneak out like her mischievous peers. School wasn't as important to her as it used to be, but she resolved she would achieve perfect grades and be on her best behaviour if she wanted the chance for her mother to let her come home early. Aside from that, she needed to do what she could to become Queen Bee once more.

1. Looks.

She wrote on her notepad, and nodded as if in agreement with herself. Even in a girls' school, her looks were one of the most important steps to becoming popular. They were the first step to making her peers feel inadequate in comparison. She couldn't just rely on what Dr. Wolowitz blessed her with. She had to make a serious effort.

2. Attitude.

No taking any crap from the Santana Lopezes of the world. She'd have to lean on her wit to quickly nip any cattiness in the bud. HBICs don't take shit from nobody.

3. Rep.

Reputation was unbelievably important. No one was just going to hand Quinn the crown of Miss Popularity without knowing anything about her past. Then and there, she vowed to tell no one about the two girls she'd buried so far back into her mind; Beth and Lucy. And that wasn't a compromise. No one wants to hand the reigns to a teen mom or a former fatty.

4. Followers.

She had to get at least someone to like her, and she could start by broadening her horizons. She decided that tomorrow she would sign up for a few extra curricular activities. One sports activity, one academic activity and one purely for fun.

5. Boys.

Quinn bit her lip at this one. Her mind wandered to Noah Puckerman, but she quickly banished that from her mind. No one was going to be impressed by the fact that she had some long distance boyfriend in Lima. She had to grab hold of someone that at least the majority of these school girls knew. The more unattainable, the better. Quinn smirked knowingly. Jesse.

xxx

The hushed bustling of their night time gathering always excited Brittany, making tadpoles swim around in her belly. Of course, this small open space in the woods surrounding the academy wasn't as sweet and comfy as she and Santana's secret hideaway, but it was still nice to lean back on a log on the ground with Santana by her side, their faces orange from the glare of a camp fire as tall, bulky boys from their brother school hung around them, refreshed and excited by the coveted presence of girls.

She liked to see Santana smile so smugly. She knew that San loved this kind of undivided attention from boys, despite claiming to have no interest them at all.

Santana smirked as Dave Karofsky handed her a lighted cigarette. Dave was probably the only boy who didn't fawn over Santana and Brittany, but he still appreciated them being there and shared the booze and smokes he scored during the weekends from looking so much older than he was.

Even though there was merriment in the air at their success in escaping tonight and holding a mini party in the woods, Santana's mind was elsewhere as she brought a bottle of vodka to her lips. It was stuck on Quinn Fabray, that angelic new girl Brittany was now so fond of. She claimed she was no Rachel Berry, and yet she'd rejected Brittany's invitation to their party tonight. However, she got the impression that was Quinn wasn't as angelic as she looked, and she was harboring a secret. And there was nothing Santana Lopez liked more than a mystery.

"Lopez!" shouted one of the guys.

Santana's attention snapped back to the party and she realized they were playing an impromptu game of Spin the Bottle with an empty vodka bottle.

"You got to kiss Brittany," leered one of the guys with a big grin on his face.

The guys started chanting 'kiss her', pounding their fists on their laps. Santana rolled her eyes with a smile and obliged, gladly, turning her head and frenching her best friend, sending the school boys into riotous cheers. Correction; there was one thing Santana Lopez liked more than a mystery. And that was Brittany Pierce.

Santana wrinkled her brow and pulled away from her friend.

"Did you hear something?" Brittany asked.

"Shut up!" Santana shouted at the cheering boys, and they did, listening intently.

Their stomachs collectively dropped and their smiles fell as they heard the sound of a dog barking in the distance of the woods.

"Oh, shit," said Santana, pulling Brittany up off the ground.

With the rest of the school boys, they attempted to scurry away, but Britt's shoe snagged on a broken tree branch among the leafy ground and she fell, scuffing her knees on the dirt. Santana turned back and helped her friend up, wrapping a protective arm around Brittany's waist, as the rest of the boys disappeared into the woods.

"Well, what do you know? If it isn't Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Fake-Boobs."

Santana winced, and the pair turned to face their sneering headmistress, Sue Sylvester, holding a leash that was attached to a snarling guard dog. Santana wasn't usually afraid of getting caught, but when it came to Headmistress Sylvester, she was in for a cruel and unusual punishment.


	2. It's Not A Date

"I have to say, I'm disappointed, ladies. A fire and roars of merriment not an acre away from the school? Did you really expect the offspring of two ruthless Nazi hunting legends wouldn't find you? I ought to have you expelled just for your idiocy."

Santana stared at Brittany's knuckles turning white as the girl gripped the arms of Headmistress Sylvester's polyester chair opposite her large mahogany desk. Expulsion was one of the soundest punishments Santana had in mind. This school was her personal Hell. But Brittany had nowhere else to go.

"But I won't," said Headmistress Sylvester, and Brittany deflated, "That would be much too light a punishment for you, Sandbags. I couldn't have you out on the streets like a godless nightwalker selling her body for tacos."

"So racist," Santana muttered under her breath.

"And you, Brittany, are my fencing star. You're the only shining beacon in a school full of noodle-armed nancies. I wouldn't give you up for the world. But nevertheless, every crime needs a punishment, and I've thought of one more fitting than any row of consecutive detentions you've ever seen," said Headmistress Sylvester, who leaned forward on her desk and pressed her intercom, "Becky, send in the Jew."

Santana glared at the door as Rachel Berry sauntered in, in her ridiculously long gray skirt, her hair tucked behind her ears to make her look even more like an elf.

"With all due respect Ms. Sylvester, I would appreciate if you didn't constantly refer to me as the Jew," Rachel said with an eternal smile on her face.

"With all due respect, Yentl, your voice is like a power drill making a fine hole in my frontal lobe," she said, turning to Brittany and Santana, "And this is the shriek-like voice that you will be hearing on a daily basis, ladies. Since corporal punishment was outlawed, I can no longer hurt you physically, but I can hurt you emotionally, and the first logical step is to fill your days with the whiny incessant droning of Miss Rachel Berry herself."

Santana raised a finely arched eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

"It means that I'm ordering you both to stay at the side of Berry. Rachel will escort you from your rooms in the morning to the night, from class to class. She will be with you at lunch, after school hours, in the courtyard, during your activities. She will be your glorified fun sized nanny."

Santana mouth dropped open in a horrified expression, her dark eyes darting from Sue Sylvester to Rachel Berry.

"Miss, you can't do this-"

"I can do whatever I want, Ms. Lopez, you be sure of that."

"If I may," interjected Rachel, "As inconsiderate of my feelings as you all seem to be, I must assure you that spending my every waking moment with Santana and her blond zombie is as displeasurable for me as it is for her, and may I remind you that I did nothing wrong and don't see why I'm being punished as well as them."

Sue squinted. "You know, your lips were moving, but all I heard was, 'I'm so whiny, please taunt me about my gay dads and my bulbous nose'. And as someone who has concern for you, Streisand, I hope you grow into that thing one day. I truly do. Now, ladies, you are hereby dismissed."

"What? No. I can't..." Santana sighed, and leaned forward pleadingly, "I can't spend all my time with her, Ms. Sylvester. I'd seriously rather be expelled."

"You should have thought about that before you pimped yourself out to the entire Holy Trinity Boarding Academy for Young Gentlemen, who are ironically anything but. You are dismissed, Ms. Lopez, and don't make me use my megaphone."

"How long do we have to do this?" sulked Santana.

"Until I see that you've learned your lesson."

Santana grimaced and rose out of her seat with Brittany. She didn't want a megaphone in the ear again. She and Brittany stalked out of the office with Rachel rushing closely behind them.

"Great," Santana scowled as they were half way down the hall, "I'd seriously rather have detention for the rest of my life than have to indefinitely be forced to spend all my time with that troll."

"Excuse me!" Berry exclaimed from behind them.

Santana stopped walking and slumped her shoulders, turning to Rachel with a glare in her eyes.

"Did I invite you to talk?" she said through gritted teeth.

"I don't need an invitation to express my opinion, Santana," Rachel rolled her eyes, "This school, like this country, encourages free speech."

Santana gave Rachel her bitterest smile. "And like your right to speak, I have my right to ignore you," she snapped and turned to Brittany, "See what I'm going to have to put up with until God knows when?"

Brittany smiled. "She reminds me of my neighbour's pomeranian."

"Excuse me!" Rachel gasped, "But I am right here, and I am also a person with feelings that you are hurting, if you even care."

Santana rolled her dark brown eyes and smiled at her best friend. "I totally get that pomeranian vibe. It's all 'yip yip yip'-"

"Well," Rachel shuddered, "I don't know what makes you think you're such a joy to be around. Even when you're not insulting everyone, all you talk about are frivolously shallow things that make you sound like an oblivious tramp."

"That's not a very Catholic thing to say, Rachel," Brittany frowned.

Rachel shook her head. "Do you even know what Catholic means, Brittany?"

"Sure," nodded Brittany, "It's someone who really likes cats."

"Listen, Berry, if you don't shut that gaping pie hole of yours at some point in the next ten seconds, I'm going to start to feel like suffocating something, and don't think I won't. I come from a place called Lima Heights Adjacent, and do you know what happens in Lima Heights Adjacent? Mierda se real!"

Rachel frowned as Santana smoothed down her skirt and turned around to continue on her way to the common room with Brittany, all the while thinking of creative names to call Rachel, and running them by the girl.

"Quinn!" Brittany cried as they entered the common room to find her blond roommate curled on an armchair by the fireplace, jotting things down on a legal pad.

"Hello," she greeted, smiling stiffly as she closed the notebook and set it down on a nearby coffee table.

If Santana wasn't mistaken, Quinn Fabray looked even Barbier than yesterday, with her blond hair slicked into a curled ponytail, catlike liquid eyeliner lining her pale green eyes and a slather of pink gloss over her lips. Santana was surprised. Sure, she'd gathered that Quinn was pretty in an insanely obvious way, but she didn't recollect Quinn being so hot. She'd hitched her skirt up higher than necessary, and Santana deduced that she was wearing a push up bra.

What? Santana Lopez knows boobs.

"You're lookin' good Ms. Fabray," said Santana, plopping down on a couch near Quinn with a tone of suspicion in her voice.

Quinn surprised the Latina by replying with, "I always do."

She smirked up at the girl as Brittany took a seat beside her and Rachel sat at a nearby chair, making herself scarce among the girls.

"What is she doing?" Quinn asked quietly, eyeing Rachel who was sitting with them.

"Court ordered," Santana rolled her eyes, "We got caught last night and now we're forced to listen to her yapping on about something 24/7."

Rachel fought the urge not to reply.

"Oh," Quinn smiled, "That must be unpleasant. Brittany, I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Yeah?" Brittany smiled widely, pleased with both how pretty her human Barbie looked and the punishment she got off with (yes, Rachel was the bane of Santana's existence, but when it came down to it, she didn't bother Brittany all that much).

"You mentioned how you were on the fencing team yesterday, and I wanted to know where I could try out."

"You fence?" Santana asked sceptically.

"Not exactly, but I'm confident that I could learn. I'm very athletic."

"Totally," smiled Brittany, "Fencing's so much fun. When I'm there, I pretend I'm a pirate trying to save my cats from walking the plank."

"That's ... nice," smiled Quinn, "I was also if wondering if you were apart of any non-athletic extra-curricular activities I could try."

"Way to over-achieve," Santana rolled her eyes.

"It's not like that, I just... I like to be apart of the school I attend. Get to know people."

"You should try theatre club," Rachel smiled eagerly.

"Excuse me?"

"Who asked your opinion, Stubbles?" sneered Santana.

"No one, I just thought I'd give it," sniffed Rachel, "Theatre club is one of the best ways to spend your time at the academy. It broadens the mind with creative expression-"

"And it's ultra lame and pathetically under funded. If Ms. Sylvester had her way, the arts in school would be completely abolished," said Santana.

"That aside," Rachel rolled her brown eyes, "Theatre club is enriching."

"It's social suicide," said Santana.

Quinn nodded. That was all she needed to hear.

"Do you do any activities, Santana?" asked Quinn.

"Just debate team," Santana smirked, "It's, like, arguing with people for credit. It should be a full time class."

Quinn smiled. "I should give it a whirl. I tend to win in arguments."

Santana smiled, able to relate, and looked at her watch. "God, I'm bored," she smiled mischievously and sat up straight, propping her legs up on the couch, "Who wants to play a game?"

"I do!" Brittany said excitedly.

"Quinn?"

The blond raised an eyebrow, looking suspicious. "What game?"

"Truth or Dare," Santana smiled.

Quinn bit her bottom lip nervously, before quickly regaining composure and nodding with confidence.

"Can I go first?" Brittany begged.

"Go ahead, Britt," smiled Santana.

Rachel watched as the girls played, often rolling her eyes at the dares to lick a table or the truths asking how far they'd gone with a boy (each had gone very far indeed, even though the seemingly wholesome Quinn seemed reluctant to admit it). She started to feel what she could only describe as jealousy as the girls became more excited by the moronic game, the dares becoming wackier and the truths becoming more scandalous and silly.

During one of Santana's turns, she turned to Quinn with a sly grin on her face.

"Okay, Q. Truth or dare?"

Quinn smiled widely and in a spur of the moment replied, "Truth".

Santana smirked, revelling the moment. "Good. You have to tell us the honest reason why your parents shipped your off to this dump."

Quinn smile faded and she averted her pale eyes, clenching her jaw.

"Come on, Barbie, we don't have all day," smiled Santana, knowing the more Quinn resisted, the juicier the secret had to have been.

"Dare," said Quinn, looking back up with determination.

"Ah ah ah, no changing once you've chosen," said Santana.

"I can change if I want to," Quinn rolled her eyes.

"No, you can't! It defeats the whole purpose of Truth or Dare. We can't switcheroo our life decisions when we don't like the outcome."

Quinn frowned. She didn't like anyone schooling her on the unjustness of life.

"Well, this isn't life, Santana, this is just a dumb game, and I choose Dare."

"You can't," said Santana, folding her arms.

"Yes, I can. Who died and made you queen of Truth or Dare?"

"It's a commonly known rule, Fabray."

"Rules are made to be broken, Lopez."

Santana scoffed and shook her head, amused and frustrated. "What do you think is so scandalous about your apple pie life that you have to make this big a deal out of it? Just answer the question."

Quinn eyes darted between the girls before it landed at the door.

"You know what? I have better things to do than play this juvenile game, so, I'm just going to go."

"No, don't," pleaded Brittany.

Santana sighed. "Fine. Don't go. Dare it is."

Quinn sat back down and smiled inwardly to herself. Debate team was going to love her.

Santana chewed on her bottom lip until her head rose up and she met Quinn's eyes, smiling evilly.

"Okay," she said, "I dare you to kiss Berry."

At that moment, Rachel's head snapped in their direction and her big brown eyes bore into Quinn's. Quinn wasn't smiling anymore. She just stared at the girl opposite her, her stomach doing flips.

"You're not serious," said Quinn.

"As a heart attack," Santana smiled sweetly, "Unless you'd like to go back to truth?"

Quinn pursed her lips. She absolutely did not want to go back to truth, but wasn't kissing Rachel Berry - the scourge of Holy Trinity schoolgirls - the equivalent of having a disastrous reputation? Knowing Brittany and Santana like she didn't, word would get out that somewhere in Quinn Fabray's body was a trace of Berry saliva, and there was no coming back from that.

She stared at Rachel's lips, wondering how they would feel on hers. For a girl pretty much known as the Sarah Palin of high school students, Rachel Berry wasn't that unattractive. Quinn figured her revulsion to the idea wasn't personal. It was just a speed bump to avoid on her journey to becoming popular. It wasn't like Rachel would be a nightmare to kiss. Her lips were soft and pink as were her cheeks and hands, and probably her legs if anyone could see them.

"I-I-I-" Quinn stammered as she stared Rachel up and down, trying to find her words.

Rachel frowned, looking uncomfortable. "I'm not apart of your game, Santana. If Quinn is kissing anyone, it's one of you. I'm a human being. Not a prop."

Santana rolled her eyes as Quinn sighed in relief.

"Truth it is, I guess," Santana smirked.

"No," replied Quinn, "I didn't back out of that dare. It just so happens that Rachel's not up for it, thank God. You'll have to think of another one."

Santana grimaced, defeated. "Okay, then. I dare you to come to a party with me and Brittany this weekend."

Quinn blinked, and nodded slowly. Befriending Brittany and Santana and attending a party was just what she needed to boost her reputation at the academy.

"That sounds fair," she smirked.

Santana smiled. It was agreed. If her Truth or Dare scheme had been foiled, at least she could attempt to get Quinn Fabray drunk, hoping the truth serum otherwise known as vodka would get the girl to 'fess up. The bell rang, and Santana sighed, disgruntled.

"Chemistry," she groaned to Brittany.

"I hate Chemistry," Brittany sulked.

"I should walk you to your classes," said Rachel, hopping out of her chair and smoothing down her skirt.

"Keep it in your pants, Berry. Ms. Sylvester isn't going to catch us from here to directly downstairs at the chemistry lab. We can make it there ourselves."

"Now, Santana, I have a duty-"

"I know, a sacred birth rite to annoy the shit out of me for the rest of my days. I remember. But give me these forty seconds alone, 'kay?"

Rachel shrugged. "Fine. I have a free period now, anyway, and I would much prefer to spend it studying than toting you two around."

"Of course you would," Santana smirked, "Bye, Barbie."

"Bye, Quinn," Brittany waggled her fingers and left the common room with Santana.

Rachel looked like she was about to leave to, gathering her satchel and avoiding eye contact with Quinn.

"Rachel?" Quinn asked as the short girl was about to walk away.

"Yes?" she asked, her voice softer than it was with Santana. People's voices tended to soften when they talked to Quinn.

"Are there any other activities you're apart of that I might consider giving a try?" she asked with a smile. No one else was around aside from them, so what did it matter if she made chit chat with the girl?

"Oh. Well, yes. As well as Santana, I'm on the debate team. I'm not one for athletics, but aside from that and theatre club, well, I'm in the chess club, the yearbook club, I work for the school journal, I'm on the student council, the mock UN, mock crime scene investigation-"

"Right," Quinn raised her hand, "Those all sound ... lovely. Is there any sort of small internship like role you can take? Such as, I don't know, assistant librarian."

Rachel's smile faltered a bit. "I'm sure they have all the help they need in the library, but you could always offer to work for Ms. Sylvester. Or if her bizarre demeanour is too intimidating for you, you could always try to help the hostel maintenance-"

"Yeah, it's just that I've sort of had my eye on spending some time in the library. I'm a big bookworm," smiled Quinn, "Do you know anyone who already works in there?"

Rachel nodded stiffly. "Jesse St. James. He's a student teacher, but they have him working in the library most of the time."

"What does he teach?"

"Theatre club," Rachel smiled, "He wants to be on Broadway some day, as do I. It's a passion we share."

"So I take it you know Jesse pretty well?"

Rachel couldn't help but smile and nod smugly. "We talk a lot. He doesn't have a lot of friends, being around the school so much, and most of the girls here are so juvenile, but... we have a mutual understanding and respect," she sighed, "He gets me."

Quinn smirked. "I'm sure he does... Thank you, Rachel."

Rachel hesitated a moment before smoothing down the ends of her hair and quickly leaving the common room. Quinn buried her nose back in her legal pad, jotting down in it like it was a journal. Securing the boy was going to be a process, and she just hoped that Rachel would stay out of the way.

xxx

Quinn Fabray was pleased to find that the male specimen was right where she wanted. A more unpleasant surprise was finding that the school library was a hot spot for her schoolmates when classes finished for the day, but luckily they weren't in her way. She walked past them, crowded around a table, giggling, their eyes darting from Jesse, back to each other every few seconds. As Quinn passed, several curious eyes lingered on her. She smiled to herself at her dumbfounded classmates. Amatuers, she thought.

Jesse leaned into his desk, scrolling through the database on his ancient computer and pretending not to notice the fleet of giggling schoolgirls ten feet away.

"Hello," smiled Quinn, her voice low and sultry, while the others girls watched, intrigued beyond belief.

"Hello," Jesse looked up, that hint of a smile creeping up onto his face, "May I help you?"

"Yes you can," Quinn muttered, tracing her eyes up and down from his playful gray eyes to his silvery belt buckle, "A little bird told me that you teach here."

Jesse nodded. "Theatre club. I graduated from the neighboring boys' school with four consecutive show choir championship trophies under my belt, so this school's arts department was eager to have me."

Quinn raised a fair eyebrow and smirked. Jesse was a boaster. Maybe that's what he and Rachel shared; their incessant pride.

"Impressive," she grinned, although show choir didn't impress her at all, "I always thought this school wasn't very big on the arts, though."

"They're not, exactly, but..." Jesse leaned forward and spoke in a hushed tone, "Headmistress Sylvester hired me to aide a teacher who she suspects is not well ... mentally."

Quinn leaned into the desk, her head inches away from Jesse, utterly disinterested. He smelled like Dove soap and hairspray.

"So, you're basically in charge of the theatre department at this academy," she said, fluffing his ego now that she knew that was his weekness.

Jesse shrugged. "Basically. It's just a temporary gig, though, to set me up for my future as a leading man on Broadway, and then movie stardom."

"Wow," Quinn sighed, "So you're going to be, like, famous."

Jesse straightened up, smiling smugly. "Why, yes, I suppose I will be. Did you need something?"

He had a smirk on his face as if he knew exactly what she needed, but Quinn leaned back and smoothed down her skirt, smiling coyly to herself. This aspect of her plan was so far so good.

"I wanted to ask a question," said Quinn.

"And that question would be?"

"It seems like you're in charge of the library."

"Yes."

"Well, I love books," she smiled sweetly, "And I thought what a good use of my time it would be to assist you. That is, if you need help."

Quinn smiled as she watched Jesse's eyes linger down her body. Thank God for this push-up bra, she thought to herself. She straightened her back and pushed her chest out ever so slightly, watching Jesse attempt to regain composure.

"Right, well, I don't know if any help is necessary..." he said, his eyes slowly moving back to her face, "But ...You never know. I haven't been doing this long. I suppose everyone needs help once in a while. I would be honored to have you help me, Quinn Fabray."

Quinn leaned back, letting relief flood over her. She could almost taste her victorious rule up ahead.

xxx

After a knock on the door, Brittany reached over and lowered the volume on her iPod dock so that Baby Got Back was only background noise.

"Hello?" she said, poking her head out of her bedroom door.

She was hoping it would be Quinn back from wherever she was - or hoping that it wasn't Rachel Berry back from wherever she was - but it was just Marjorie Lump; a maid who handed out mail every Tuesday with a stiff frown on her face.

"Hi, Marjie," Brittany smiled brightly. She figured that Marjorie was only frowny because everyone at school called her The Lump, so Brittany always attempted to be a little nicer, but it rarely worked.

Marjorie handed over a small stack of envelopes, her mouth pulled down in a frown.

Brittany beamed and took the letters. "I never get mail," she giggled, clutching the letters and rocking on her feet.

Marjorie grunted and stalked off with her basket of letters.

"Service with a smile, Marjie!" Brittany called down the hall, and closed the door behind her.

"What did you get, Britt?" asked Santana, flipping through a copy of Cosmo on top of Brittany's bed covers.

Brittany flipped through the letters and smiled. There were three. The magic number.

"This one is from Stephanie..." Brittany smiled sweetly and held it to her chest, closing her eyes.

Santana smiled at her friend. Brittany was always so caring and innocent. It was hard not to love her. Santana gave up the resistance a long time ago.

"And this one is from... Ohio State In-Insulation..."

"Do you want me to read it, Britt?"

Brittany nodded and handed Santana the letter.

"It's a cheque," Santana said, wide eyed, sitting up as Brittany hopped onto the end of the bed, "For your fencing competition last spring, Britt."

Brittany smiled. "How much?" she asked, as Santana opened the envelope.

Santana wrinkled her nose. "Only fifty bucks. I bet the rest goes to Ms. Sylvester. Troll."

Brittany smiled and clutched her cheque. "That's enough for a supply of candy until next semester."

"I don't know about that... What's the third letter?"

Brittany picked up her third envelope and looked it over. "It's for Quinn."

Santana raised an eyebrow. "Does it say who it's from?"

"Noah Puckerman," read Brittany, flashing a toothy grin at Santana for pronouncing it correctly.

Santana snatched the letter out of Brittany's hands. "Noah Puckerman..." she repeated under her breath, "Britt, do you think this could be the Ken to Quinn's Barbie?"

"You mean Noah is Quinn's boyfriend?"

"Yeah. Or, her reason for leaving Lima..." Santana eyes were wide and curious, scanning over the handwriting on the front of the thin envelope.

Her fingers itched to tear it open.

"Brittany,... I think we should read it."

Brittany bit her bottom lip. The blond was confused by a lot of things, but she knew the difference between right and wrong.

"I think we should let Quinn read it first. I mean, it was sent to her, wasn't it?"

"Well, sure, Britt, but you and I both know that Quinn has a secret, and it's up to us as her friends to figure out what it is."

"Maybe she'l tell us when she's ready," said Brittany, fiddling with the tail of her stuffed unicorn.

"Or maybe she'll always be too shy to tell us, Britt. Come on, she'll never find out," smiled Santana, her voice enticingly sweet.

Brittany chewed her lip some more before nodding in agreement, her eyebrows knitted together nervously.

Throwing caution and consideration to the wind, Santana ripped the envelope open and scanned her eyes through the short letter, her stomach stirring with excitement.

Dear Q,

I don't know if you've been getting my e-mails. Maybe there's no WiFi in your boarding school. That sucks so bad. I'm really sorry, but I wish you told me. You just stopped talking to me this summer, after what happened... Look, I know you must be going through a real tough time, but I love you, and I want to see you. I'm driving out to Warsaw for the weekend if you say you'll meet me there. We gotta talk.

Puck

A smile creeped onto Santana's face.

"Britt, do you know what this means?" she asked quietly.

Brittany grinned and hugged her unicorn. "Barbie has her Ken."

"Yeah, but it's something bigger than that," Santana's eyes widened, and she looked up at her best friend, "Brittany, we're gonna give Quinn the best surprise ever."

Brittany hopped up with excitement. "I love surprises!"

xxx

Quinn sighed and bit into an apple, hoping it would wake her up. She hadn't slept well since she arrived at the academy. Every night she woke up in a sweat rolling around on rough grey sheets with the cold seeping out through the single paned windows and Brittany snoring softly on the other side of the box room.

Interrupted sleep didn't look good on Quinn, but she made it work. Before heading down to the dining hall for breakfast, she applied cover up to the dark circles around her eyes and lathered gloss over her lips.

She still got curious stares from the girls crowding the tables, but she ignored them. It wouldn't do anything for her image if she cared too much what they thought of her; and it helped that she truly didn't.

She expected more lingering eyes when she entered the library. She got up early that morning to ever so slightly curl her glossy blond hair, and she had a coy smile on her lips because she knew she looked amazing. That smile faded in the old dusty library when she saw Rachel Berry leaning against Jesse's desk, one of her completely covered legs raised behind her, showing off a sliver of milky white calf.

"Hello, Rachel," Quinn said silkily, attempting a smile, even though it came out more like a leer.

"Oh, hello, Quinn," Rachel said, dropping her leg. Her mouth hung open as she looked at Quinn slipping behind the desk.

"So, Jesse," smiled Quinn, batting her heavily lined green eyes, "How are you?"

Jesse hair was light and wavy today, and he wore the same black jeans and t-shirt he wore the day before. His grey eyes were on her now - not Miss Rachel Overbearing Berry.

"I'm good," he sighed, his eyes lingering down her body again. Quinn was beginning to get bored of the way he did that.

As well as Jesse's piercing greys, Rachel's big browns were glued to the stellar blond as well. The shorter girl stood slackjawed beyond the librarian's desk. Instead of trailing the countours of her body like Jesse, Rachel's eyes were firmly planted on Quinn's face. In particular, her eyes. Quinn wanted to blush and ask her if she was okay, but the popular HBIC inside of her had to snap, "What?"

Rachel jumped and averted her eyes, blushing. "Sorry. Nothing. Um, what are you doing here?"

Quinn smirked and flicked her hair back, leaning into Jesse. "I'm assisting Jesse. You know, 'cause I love libraries."

Rachel attempted a smile that failed miserably. "I see... Well, Jesse and I were just discussing our preferred Broadway stars - Patti Lupone and Sutton Foster."

Quinn nodded, her eyes wandering away. "Cool..." she mumbled.

"Of course, as talented as Sutton is, I myself prefer the experience and stellar raw talent of the great Miss Patti Lupone," Rachel gushed.

"And as much as I agree that Patti Lupone is legendary, I think that Broadway is ready for the new blood of the awesome Sutton Foster," Jesse smiled teasingly at Rachel, who rolled her big brown eyes with a grin.

"Well, I'm all for new blood," Quinn mumbled, smirking at Jesse.

Jesse's eyes darted between Quinn and Rachel, unsure of what was happening.

"Who's your favorite Broadway star, Quinn?" Rachel asked with a stiff smile.

Quinn rolled her eyes upwards, in thought. "The guy from Harry Potter?"

Rachel smirked. "Daniel Radcliffe?"

"What, you don't think he was good in that business thing?"

Rachel sighed, looking down with a condescending grin. "Yes, he was surprisingly talented in How to Succeed In Business Without Really Trying, but I definitely think he's inferior than some of the legendary stars before him."

Quinn frowned. "Well, I'm not really a Broadway buff."

"I figured."

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Quinn smiled, "Like with Brittany and Santana? Miss Sylvester will have a fit if she catches them without you."

Rachel frowned. She'd been hoping to forget about that little agreement.

"I don't really care if they get in trouble. It's what those two deserve," Rachel sniffed.

"And what about you? You think Miss Sylvester is going to take lightly to you disregarding her orders?"

Rachel grimaced. "I didn't know you were such a stickler for rules, Quinn."

"Rules are made for a reason, Rachel."

Rachel glared. "Bye, Jesse," she waggled her fingers with a stiff smile and stalked away.

"You must get that kind of thing all the time," Quinn sighed as Rachel sauntered out of the library.

"What kind of thing?" smirked Jesse, moving to his computer.

"School girls hanging off you and vying for your attention?"

Jesse chuckled. "You could say that."

"They're all so juvenile here," Quinn rolled her eyes.

Jesse shrugged. "You think you're more mature than them?"

"Certainly those who I've met, anyways. Although maybe that's what happens when there's such a lack of boys around here. All we have is the weekends. Speaking of the weekends, I've been invited to a house party."

"You have?" Jesse raised an eyebrow, "Not a lot of house parties in this town."

Quinn nodded and smiled. "I figured. Which is why I thought it would be the perfect opportunity for you to have some fun."

Jesse looked slightly surprised and yet amused. "Are you inviting me to a party?" he asked, leaning back into his desk.

"Are you interested in coming?" she smiled, her eyes fluttering from the floor to his face, "With me?"

Jesse sighed, running his fingers through his hair in a rare moment of discomposure. "I... am a faculty member," he said slowly.

"That you are," said Quinn, her fingers trailing the surface of the desk as she inched closer.

"And you... are a student," he said, watching her fingers crawl over the teacher like thin porcelain spiders.

"That I am," she said, barely a whisper.

Jesse sighed with regret. "Therefore we are forbidden to date."

"It wouldn't be a date," Quinn smiled with a shrug, "There'll be a lot of people there. You'd be like... a chaperone."

Jesse snorted. "I don't think I'm up for chaperoning this weekend. Maybe I could go as your friend."

"Perfect."

"Not a date," Jesse said with a grin.

"Not a date," Quinn nodded, smiling. It was a date.


	3. Who is Quinn Fabray?

Sugar Motta wasn't a likeable girl; that was for sure. In such a small town, she stuck out like a sore thumb for being daddy's rich little princess. She rode a limo to school every morning and her Aspergers syndrome didn't help her with fitting in. She knew she was better than everyone else and she didn't hesitate to tell them. She would have gotten beat up a few times in elementary school if it weren't for the set of bulky bodyguards Daddy hired to tote his baby girl around.

Still, with all of that separating Sugar Motta from the rest of this dull world, she still never seemed to have a shortage of friends gathered around her to hear her nasally voice. Sometimes she couldn't even remember their names.

"Hello?" she said absentmindedly, throwing her eyes back in thought as she answered the front door of Daddy's house. The skinny Latin schoolgirl looked familiar. "Who are you, again? You seem totally familiar, in a really unpleasant way."

The dark haired girl smiled back bitterly. "Santana Lopez. We met last year at fencing Nationals. You remember my friend, Britt?"

Sugar Motta looked over Santana's shoulder and glared at a familiar face. "You're that airhead who beat me last year."

Brittany bit her lip. She tried to remember what Santana told her earlier. 'That snob Sugar Motta can't control whatever spills out of her gaping maw, so just smile and don't get your feelings hurt'. Brittany smiled.

"Yep," she shrugged.

"Well, you were having a lucky day. I gave up fencing. It was so last spring," droned Sugar, "And who's that?"

Over Santana's other shoulder, another blond stood in the backdrop of the Saturday night sky, her hair glossed and sexy in a modest black dress.

"My name is Quinn Fabray," the girl smiled with a sultry voice, reaching over Santana to shake Sugar's hand.

"So can we come in?" asked Santana, sighing with boredom.

"Have fun," smiled Sugar, who pranced away to greet some of her other guests.

Quinn breathed in and smiled as Santana and Brittany led her in to Sugar Motta's crowded house. It reminded her of any other spoiled rich kid's house party back home. Music thumped through the room as kids her age leaned in close to talk to each other - or to do other things. Most of them had red plastic cups in their hands and she would bet that the marble tiled floors would be sticky with alcohol by tomorrow morning.

"This isn't your first house party, huh?" Santana asked as she made her way into the kitchen like she knew her way around the place.

She bent down to fish through the cooler, showing off a gracious portion of her firm butt. Tall boys gaped and punched each other as they passed, checking out Santana's ass.

"No, it's not," Quinn said, leaning into the island counter and jealously eyeing the boys. She worried that she looked too formal for a house party with her honey colored hair perfectly sleek, wearing a black Betsey Johnson dress and matching pumps. Santana was catching a lot more looks in her skintight red dress. Quinn always believed that less was more, and modesty was sexy, but that was back when she didn't have any competition.

Quinn winced as Santana rose and handed her a wine cooler.

"Blech. Can I get something else?" she asked, wrinkling her nose at the bottle of pink fizz.

Santana raised an eyebrow and set the bottle on the counter. "Fine, chica. I didn't think you'd be into anything stronger, but you never cease to surprise me," Santana smiled, a twinkle in her eye. S

he'd been in a radiant mood all day, an excited smile never leaving her face. Quinn figured the girl was just really into parties.

Brittany hopped up on the counter in her skinny jeans and over sized t-shirt, a mini tophat headband wrapped around her head, opening the wine cooler and glugging the pink drink as Santana rooted through the cabinets.

"Ah ha," she smiled happily and removed a bottle of tequila, opening it and taking a quick gulp, "Have this."

She held the nose of the bottle to Quinn's face as music thumped around them and people came and went looking for snacks or more booze. Quinn didn't want to admit it, but she'd never had tequila before, and from the sour smell of the liquid, she didn't want to embarrass herself in front of the experienced Santana if she couldn't handle the bitter burn and made a face.

"Can I just get some Coke and rum?" she asked.

"Have it your way, Barbie," Santana smiled, glugging from the bottle once more.

After rooting through the fridge, Santana handed a diet rum and Coke to Quinn, who savoured the drink, hoping it would take the edge off. She didn't know why, but her stomach was turning like a tumble dryer. It had been so long since she attended a party or even had a sip of alcohol. She pondered on the irony that she had the opportunity to be so much more reckless out here than back home. She wondered what her mother would think, and smiled.

Three rum and cokes later, she started to worry about Jesse showing up as she was nestled between Sugar Motta and some guy named Azimio Adams on the living room couch. She let herself relax to the sounds of the repetitive music, and watched in a sort of haze as Santana and Brittany made out on an armchair on the other side of the room. Sugar Motta leaned over the couch to talk to someone else as Azimio leaned invasively close to Quinn.

"You like an itty bitty blond angel," he drawled, one too many beers and vodka shots getting the best of him, "Come on, shawty."

"I'm supposed to meet someone here," she said slowly, her green eyes darting to the front door as Azimio's hand landed on her leg.

"Aw yeah, you been sent down from heaven to meet me, huh baby?" he slurred, pawing at her.

Her heart skipped a beat as Jesse entered through the front door, briefly meeting her eyes through the living room door. She pushed Azimio off of her and stood up from the low cosy couch, clutching her dizzy head and steadying herself. Her tall drinks had her a little light headed, and she power walked to the door in her heels with a sleepy smile.

"Jesse!" she called over the music, and wrapped her arm around his shoulder in an awkward hug, "What took you so long?"

Jesse smiled and leaned into the hug, sliding his arm around Quinn's waist.

"I had an errand to run," he said into her ear as she hugged him, and over his shoulder, Quinn saw the errand.

"Rachel..." she said blankly, pushing past Jesse and blinking at the short girl in a pale green dress that looked like a night gown, her brown hair slightly curled and pink staining her lips.

"Hello, Quinn," Rachel nodded stiffly, her brown eyes darting around.

Quinn raised an eyebrow. Rachel looked so uncomfortable here, and Quinn could tell she wasn't the partying type. If she could figure that out after less than a week of knowing her, then why didn't Jesse?

"Why did you bring her here?" Quinn demanded, turning to Jesse. The question came out much more hostile than she intended.

"Because we're friends and I wanted to come," Rachel folded her arms defensively.

"Right," said Quinn, draining the last of her rum, "Let me get you a drink."

She clutched Jesse's warm, rough hand and led him into the kitchen with Rachel following along, suddenly feeling like an overdressed third wheel.

She grabbed at the liquor on the counter and poured a Coke and rum for her and Jesse.

"What would you like, Rachel?" she asked with a smile, not hesitating to gulp down her drink.

Rachel eyed the ice box. "I'll just have some West Coast Cooler," she said, reaching for a green bottle.

"Lovely," Quinn sighed, "So Jesse, how are you?"

"Great," Jesse smirked as Quinn touched his arm.

"We were discussing colleges for him to go to when he's done with this little teaching stint," Rachel said, clutching her unopened drink and linking her arm into Jesse's.

Quinn smiled and sighed. She knew this girl would be hard to get rid of, and even though Quinn's mind was a little muddled by the music and the syrupy taste of her drink, she had to remember her goal for tonight. At the very least, she and Jesse had to kiss on their not-a-date first date. She wasn't going to lose a key componant for her chance at popularity to some hobbity looking girl in a 19th century nightgown.

"Sounds like something he should be discussing with his mom," Quinn chuckled as her hand slid up Jesse's arm and firmly gripped his shoulder.

"If by mom you just mean a nurturing woman who cares about him, then, yeah, I'd completely agree," Rachel said, the corners of her mouth curled up in the most unpleasant smile Quinn had ever seen, while she wrapped another hand around Jesse's arm, practically hanging off of him in desperation. Quinn had to roll her eyes.

Jesse looked side to side and the two girls groping him and leering at each other. He didn't know what was going on, but he liked it.

"Ladies, I think we should all just chill out. We can find a bench on the porch, or perhaps a hot tub, and just let loose together. What do you say?"

Quinn smirked. She would do what she could to obtain Jesse, but she most definitely wasn't going to share. This was a big part of getting a chance to be happy again. She gripped her drink and stumbled forward, spilling the concoction down the front of Rachel's frilly dress.

Rachel's gasped from the cold of the ice as her dress quickly stained a light brown color.

"Oh, sorry!" Quinn faked a gasp, clutching her hand to her chest, "You should go clean yourself up. The bathroom's that way."

Quinn pointed in the direction of a door. She had no idea where it led. Rachel looked up at her, her mouth posed in a circle of disbelief. She stalked off, clenching her hands into fists, and disappeared out the door.

Quinn bit her lip and shrugged. "Oops," she said.

"Should I go help her?" asked Jesse.

"No," Quinn shook her head, "You'll probably just embarrass her. No, you should, uh, come upstairs with me."

"What?" Jesse asked, confused, as Quinn tossed her empty glass aside and picked up a bottle of vodka.

"Yeah, come on, I'll show you something," she giggled giddily, and clutched his wrist, running to the wide staircase beyond the foyer, tripping several times in her heels, and having Jesse steady her by clutching her waist from behind. She giggled uncontrollably and she flicked her heels off and left them under the stairs.

"Jesse, hurry, it's like hide and seek," she laughed, and pulled the baffled boy up the staircase and into the first bedroom she found.

It looked like a guest room, she thought, with nothing personal on the shelves and atop the armoire, the floral bed covers perfectly made. She plopped herself down on the end of the bed and smiled up at Jesse.

"Sit," she said giddily, taking a swig of the vodka bottle she brought along with her.

Jesse did as she said, raising a fine black eyebrow. "Are we running away from Rachel?"

Quinn smiled. "Maybe," she shrugged, "I just... It's not that I don't like Rachel. I just want you to myself. And with Rachel, I mean, that's pretty hard. She's all over you!"

"I didn't notice," Jesse lied.

Quinn snorted. "She's totally into you. I mean, not as much as I am, but you know, she could fool a person. She gets so passionate about stuff, and I haven't known her long, but I can see that in her, you know? The passion? Have you noticed that?"

Jesse nodded slowly, his eyes trailing away. "She's a very determined young woman."

"That's one way to put it. She's seriously... She just loves to love. I think that's it. I mean, I don't know anything about her, but I know that. I wish I could be like that. Life would be like magic. Full of possibilities and stuff. She's lucky."

She inched close to Jesse on the bed and put her pale hand over his. It was warm and rough and her fingers wriggled around so she could hold it, even though it was a little clammy. She raised her leg onto the bed so that her dress was hitched up just a little too much. Screw modesty, she thought.

"I thought this wasn't a date," Jesse said, resisting a smile as she took a gulp of vodka.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Oh, yeah, Jesse. This isn't a date. And we are not two young, attractive, single and compatible people."

He almost laughed, until she raised her hand and ran it through his hair, staring into his eyes. Even drunk, she was irresistible.

"I could get fired..." he mumbled, staring at her body.

"You won't," she said, "Trust me."

"Quinn..." he said, barely a whisper as she leaned forward, her lips just inches from his, but not quite there. She breathed in his smell of hairspray and cologne. It made her nauseous.

The two broke apart faster than lightning as the door burst open, and Rachel was on the other side holding a damp paper towel, the stain on her dress dry but still apparant.

"Oh..." she said, staring at the two of the on the edge of the bed, "Sorry."

Quinn sighed. "What do you want?" she grumbled, taking another swig of vodka.

"You mean what do I want after you spilled your drink on me and then directed me to the basement?" she frowned, folding her arms.

"Yeah," Quinn smirked, "That's what I mean."

"There's someone downstairs who wants to see you," Rachel said through gritted teeth.

"Who?"

"Some boy."

Quinn scoffed. "Nice try. I don't know anyone in this town, Berry," she grumbled, getting frustrated. Too much alcohol and she became an angry drunk.

"I promise you, Quinn. There is a boy downstairs looking for you everywhere, with a white t-shirt, and a mohawk-"

"What?"

Quinn started to feel sick. The tumble dryer in her stomach turned on again.

"A boy. Downstairs. Looking for you," Rachel said slowly.

Quinn smiled apologetically to Jesse. "I'll be right back," she said, and hopped up, straightening her dress and leaving the room.

All the way down the stairs, her heart thumped against her chest, and when her eyes landed on the door, her fears were confirmed.

"Puck," she said, but she was unheard under the sound of the music.

The boy saw her, though, his hazelly eyes landing on her and his heart melting. Part of Quinn wanted to run and land in the boys arms. He was a symbol of the comfort that was home and the promise of love. The one person in this world that actually loved her, genuinely or not.

"Hey, Q," he said as she approached, attempting a half hearted smile.

She grabbed a handful of his white shirt and dragged him out the front door of Sugar Motta's massive house. She felt the gravel under her feet and remembered that she wasn't wearing shoes.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, her voice wavering. She felt a surge of hot tears, but she bit them back. She hadn't seen the boy since that day in the hospital. When he told her he loved her. She still couldn't believe he was here. It was like a bubbling of danger in the pit of her stomach and yet a breeze of relief.

"You... You asked me to come," he said, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"I did not!" she snapped, "I haven't talked to you at all. Not since Beth." She could feel the tears now, rolling off of the edge of her eyelids and catching in her dark lashes. Puck's face was so serene and full of love, that it reminded her to much of the only other time he'd ever looked like that. When he was looking at his daughter.

Puck shook his head, and removed a crumpled piece of paper from the pocket of his jeans, straightened it out and handed it to Quinn.

She squinted at it. It appeared to be a typed letter asking Puck to come to the party in Warsaw. Signed, Quinn.

"This isn't... I didn't write this!"

Puck looked crestfallen. "Come on, Quinn-"

"No!" she shouted, "I didn't want this! I didn't want you here! Noah, please."

She buried her face in her hands and felt the hot tears drip onto them. She couldn't handle any of this anymore, especially not now, when she was so close to starting a new life free of her mistakes.

"Quinn," she heard him sigh, and she felt the warmth of his arm around her shoulder.

"Puck, please," she pleaded, her voice cracking, "You have to leave."

Puck shook his head. "I need to see you."

"I don't want to see you!" she said angrily, "I want a new life. I... Jesse is upstairs, and... Rachel."

She swallowed her tears quietly and sighed. Rachel. That bitch was probably the one ruining her life right at this very moment. "I need to get upstairs."

"Wait, Quinn-"

"No, Puck, listen," she sighed, mascara running down her cheeks and blurring her vision, "I need to move on. This is over. You have to stop."

The gravel was making indents on the bottoms of her bare feet. She ran back into the house, tears spilling down her face. She attracted the curious stares of many of the people around her as she sprinted back upstairs. Her mind in a muddle, she burst into the bedroom where she last left Jesse, and whatever words she had planned to stay got stuck behind a lump in her throat.

Jesse leaned over on the bed, his hands firmly clutching Rachel Berry's slender back, the two intertwined, their lips locks. Quinn almost couldn't believe what she was seeing. The object of her false affections sucking face with Rachel Munchkin Berry. Why was her plan failing so miserably? Where had she gone wrong?

Rachel and Jesse pulled apart quickly as they noticed Quinn standing in the doorway with mascara running down her cheeks and a crumpled letter in her hand. Jesse wiped his mouth with his sleeve and averted his eyes, looking guilty. Rachel's cheeks turned a bright crimson.

"Quinn!" she gasped, and practically jumped a foot away from Jesse, "What's wrong?"

The tumble dryer in Quinn's stomach was on full speed, and she clutched it, doubling over and vomiting on Sugar Motta's plush white carpet.

xxx

Before she even remembered where she was or who she was, Quinn thanked the Lord it was still the weekend. Then, she opened her pale green eyes to the world and remembered everything. Her body felt hollow and achy, and the sun that poured in through the thin curtains burned her eyes. She winced and turned over in her bed, feeling the coarse sheets on her bare arms.

"She's awake," she heard someone say, and as she peeked through the duvet covers, she saw Santana and Brittany entangled together on Brittany's bed, Dubstep playing quietly on Santana's phone.

"Turn that off," grumbled Quinn, who buried her head under her covers once again.

"Good morning to you, too, Pukey," Santana said, smiling infectiously, "Aspirin?"

Quinn emerged from her covers again, welcoming a painkiller and a glass of water from the girl on the bed across her.

"Thanks," she sighed, her body aching more from the pain of what happened last night than her apparant hangover.

"Man, who knew you were such a light weight," Santana grinned, lying next to Brittany.

Quinn groaned. "That was so humiliating."

Not only had she barfed in front of the boy she was supposed to be seducing, but the incident made the wasted and emotional Quinn run back downstairs, tears running down her face, looking to Santana and Brittany to take her back to her dorm room. Needless to say, she wouldn't be invited to another Sugar Motta house party any time soon.

"That poor carpet..." mumbled Brittany.

"Do you want to tell us what happened last night?" Santana asked, leaning over with a curious leer.

Quinn shut her eyes and sat up in bed, trying to figure out how to explain why last night had been so awful without truly giving herself away. Although, at this point, why bother.

"I invited Jesse. The librarian, and I caught him frenching Berry," Quinn sighed, utterly embarrassed.

Santana raised an eyebrow and frowned. "Are you sure that's all?"

Quinn pursed her lips. Of course that wasn't all. Of course, she was trying to suppress the memory that she'd ever seen Noah Puckerman, the only boy she'd ever come close to loving. It was too painful to face. The one thing she liked about being shipped off to boarding school was the fact that she didn't have to see Noah's face on a daily basis and wonder if Beth would have his nose or his cheeky grin. She had Quinn's eyes...

Quinn sighed and it was almost a shudder. She was too tired to cry.

"My ex-boyfriend showed up last night," she said quietly.

"No way," smirked Santana, "All the way from Lima, huh? What's that all about?"

She leaned forward eagerly, a smile on her face. Quinn grimaced.

"Nothing... He wanted to see me. He still loves me, blah blah blah."

"What happened between you two?"

Quinn bit her lip. "Nothing. He cheated and I broke it off. Whatever."

Santana dropped her smile, and sat back, clearly dissatisfied with Quinn's answer.

"That can't be it," she folded her arms.

"What are you talking about? Of course that's it," Quinn widened her eyes and remembered, "That reminds me. I have a hobbit to kill."

Santana raised an eyebrow as Quinn leaped out of the bed, throwing a beige day dress over her head.

"Que?" asked Santana.

"Last night, Noah gave me a letter that was supposedly from me to him, asking him to meet me at that party, and I bet you anything that troll doll sent it to him to keep me away from her precious Jesse."

Santana smirked. "I love how clever you are, Q, but you're wrong about this one."

"Excuse me?"

"I sent the letter," Santana said, matter of fact.

"It was a surprise," smiled Brittany.

"A... surprise?" repeated Quinn, her mouth hanging open in bafflement, "That was your idea of a surprise."

Brittany smiled and furrowed her brow. "Uh huh... Surprise!"

"Come on, Q, what's the big deal?" Santana rolled her eyes, "He obviously doesn't mean that much to you, huh?"

Quinn gritted her teeth. "Are you a moron?"

Brittany and Santana skipped a beat in silence, staring at Quinn's piercing green eyes.

"Excuse me?" Santana asked with disbelief.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Whoa," Santana stood up in her bra and pyjama bottoms, "What the hell is wrong with you? You were all whatever a minute ago, so what's the big deal now?"

"The big deal is... The big deal is, you don't know me!"

"I was trying to get to know you, Q! You won't tell us anything about you. Anything important, anyways."

"For a reason! You don't need to know everything about me! I don't owe you anything, so just stay out of my goddamn business!"

"Don't get loud with me, chica!" Santana raised a finger, "How am I supposed to know what trauma you've been through? You gotta open up sometime."

Quinn chuckled humorlessly. "That's rich coming from you."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I know girls like you. You put up all these walls and act all tortured and bad-ass just because you're infinitely more boring than the people you pretend to be friends with."

"Hold your tongue before you say something you might regret, blondie. You don't want me to think I know you, so don't think you know me," Santana said, tight-lipped and serious, "You don't know anything about me or where I come from."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. I know exactly where you come from, genius. You're dad is a doctor and your mom is a trophy wife. I learned that on this cool new thing called Google. You know, you're not that hard to figure out."

Santana scoffed. "I'm easy to figure out? You're easier, bitch. Some blond beauty queen rolls into town and thinks she can just hop on the throne because that's how things worked back home. Well, guess what, honey? You 'aint home no more. Nobody's here to serve you and your needs. I'm sure whatever dumbass trauma you had to go through made you feel like a real special snowflake, but guess what, you're not. Now that, you can't Google."

Quinn's mouth hung open, and Santana blinked in surprise as the girl started to laugh.

"Daddy's girl? Is that what you just called me?"

"Did I stutter?"

Quinn frowned, all humor lost. "Daddy's girl to daddy's girl; did your dad ever disown you and kick you out of your own home for getting pregnant?"

Santana and Brittany gaped at the girl, no comebacks cropping up any time soon.

"Do you think your dad would be there for you, Santana, when you gave birth to your baby girl? Or would he abandon you like mine did? Would your mom help you through putting your daughter up for adoption, or, like mine, would she only come back for you when you were the only one left who could ever love her?"

Santana didn't answer, but stared at the floor.

"That's what I thought," sighed Quinn, who turned away and left the room, slamming the door behind her.

"I told you we shouldn't have opened her mail," muttered Brittany.

xxx

Quinn picked at a loose thread on her off white day dress. Everything in her wardrobe made her look like the virgin queen and she was really starting to hate the hypocrisy. The Rolling Stones played in her headphones as she watched the countryside roll by from behind a bus window. It was something Puck had uploaded to her iPod in an attempt to enrich her taste in music. She already thought her taste in music was fine. Just because he didn't know who Colbie Caillat or Ingrid Michaelson were, didn't mean he was right. However, she did enjoy the sound of a Jimi Hendrix tune filling her ears. It brought her back to the days of being under his bed covers, ignoring whatever the world had to offer outside of those four walls.

The bus arrived in the middle of the small town in Warsaw, the buildings barely taller than Quinn's parents' house back in Lima. Well, her mother's house, now. She spotted a Starbucks across the road from the bus stop - even this tiny town had one - and wrapping her cardigan tightly around herself in the chilly breeze, she headed inside. There were only quiet murmurs and the gentle hiss of the coffee machine inside. She took a seat near the door. Most of them were empty at this time of the morning. She tried to clasp her hands together, only realizing then that they were shaking.

"I thought you wouldn't show up."

Quinn's heart fluttered and she looked up at Noah standing over her shoulder, his voice quiet and his eyes melting with her in face in the reflection of his hazel irises.

"Sit down," she said, softly, and not demanding. He looked like he was carrying the world on his shoulders and needed a rest. She almost wanted to laugh at both of their reflections in the window beside them. For seventeen, they sure looked old. She sadly noted that no child should have to be so exhausted with life.

"How is everyone back home?" she asked, forcing a small smile.

Puck sniffed. "I've been checking on your mom every once and a while. She's all alone, in that big place, what with you and your dad gone."

Good, though Quinn. But that was just the bitterness speaking.

"Puck, I am so sorry," Quinn sighed, closing her eyes and dropping her head. She was sorry, tired, ashamed and afraid, and it was getting really heavy on her heart lately.

"You got nothing to be sorry about," he said, leaning forward and taking her hand in his, stopping it from shaking.

More than anything, she wanted to believe him.

"I don't love you the way you deserve to be loved," she said, barely a whisper, but Puck shook his head.

"I love you enough for the both of us."

Quinn chuckled and sniffed, shaking her head. The boy was a bit of an airhead, but he had always been romantic. More so than his brainless high school cohorts knew. He had a big heart and wasn't afraid to love someone with all he had.

"Don't waste your time loving me," she said.

"Loving you is never a waste of time, Q. You're amazing."

"You're just saying that because I had your baby. If I was... If I was the girl I used to be, you wouldn't think of me as anything more than a chase."

"But you're not the girl you used to be."

"That's for sure."

"You're so different, and so much better, too. I can see how sad you are, Quinn, and it's because you knew love. Real love. For our daughter. It was the best kind of love you've ever felt, and I know, 'cause I felt it too. And now nothing else compares. No parties or stupid guys. Being popular. It's not gonna make you happy like it used to."

Quinn bit down on the inside of her cheek. This wasn't a theory she had ever considered - that what she felt when she saw Beth's face was so amazing that nothing else could ever be good enough. It explained a lot. Nothing made her as happy as it used to.

"I just wanted to start over."

"You can't," Puck shrugged, "It's the cruel truth. You can only move on, you can't go back."

Quinn shook her head, gripping the edge of the table. "I wish I could just go wherever the hell I want."

Puck stared down at the surface of the table for a few moments, and Quinn began to wonder what was on the boy's mind.

"I love you."

"I know."

"I want to know if you love me, too."

Quinn bit her lip. "That's a complicated question."

"I don't think it is. I think you either love someone or you don't."

"If it's that simple, then yeah, I love you," Quinn said, shaking her head, "But it's never that simple. You're not asking if I love you, you're asking if I want to be with you."

"Maybe."

"No."

He looked taken aback by her abrupt answer, and blinked at her face, skipping a beat.

"I... can't say I'm surprised," he sighed, even though he clearly was, "I just... What is it? I mean, is it just me, or is it the distance now that you're in boarding school, because-"

"No, Noah, it's-"

"Don't you dare say it's you, and not me. I've heard that before, Fabray."

Quinn rolled her eyes up to the ceiling and smiled. "The truth is never original, Puck. You mean so much to me. So much. But I don't want that kind of relationship from you. I'm not saying you wouldn't be an amazing boyfriend. You love me more than anyone on this earth, I'm sure of it. But it's not enough."

"What would make it enough?"

Quinn sighed. "I wish I knew. I just... As much as my life so far has told me the opposite, I still believe in soulmates. Someone that you have no uncertainties about spending the rest of your life with. I can't tell the future. Maybe I could make it work with you if we gave it a shot. But I've been through so much with you that I don't want to hurt you if one day I wake up and realize that with you, I'm uncertain. Uncertain that I'm the one."

Puck stared off out of the window, his eyes looking far away and lost. "And this is really how you feel? You're not just brushing me off because you're afraid of getting hurt yourself?"

Quinn shook her head, smiling genuinely for the first time in weeks. "You would never hurt me. That would be one thing to be certain about."

"I just want you to be happy, Q."

"I know."

"If it's not with me, then fine. As long as you're okay in the end."

"Everything is always okay in the end," she said, nodding her head like she truely believed it.

"Can I say something if you promise not to hit me?"

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "Maybe."

"That guy at your party? Those people? Your... 'friends'," he said with air quotations, "I don't think they'll make you happy."

Quinn nodded absentmindedly. "I just wanted to be back where I used to be. Queen Bee, you know. With the friends and the boy and the status."

"Well, look how that turned out the first time around," he leaned forward, smiling, "Q, you have to quit that stuff."

"That stuff is all I know," she shrugged, "I don't know how to be anyone else."

"Yes, you do. When you got pregnant, you weren't popular. You weren't looking to impress anyone, and I think that's when I finally saw the real you. You were strong and smarter than anyone ever gave you credit for. And you had so much love to give. You were guarded, sure, but I could see how nurturing you could be. Stop trying to be Miss Popularity, and just be Quinn."

"Sometimes I wonder, though. Who is Quinn?"

Puck sat back with an all-knowing smile on his face. "The love of my life."

The girl had to blush. "Since when did you get so gooey?"

"Love does crazy things, babe," he smiled, "So make me a promise, okay? To stop being Queen and start being Quinn."

Quinn shrugged. "What if I don't know how?"

"Then find out who Quinn is. And don't try to mold her into something, just find out who she really is."

"Okay," Quinn nodded.

"Spit shake me."

"Absolutely not."

"Fine," he sighed, "Pinky promise."

Quinn nodded. "I pinky promise," she said, linking her pinky into his and holding tight. If she couldn't give him the love he deserved, then the least she could do was keep her promise. She would take this year to answer the question; who is Quinn Fabray?


	4. Are You There God? It's Me, Lucy

The hallways of the academy were achingly empty on Sundays. Of course, anyone living in a confinement like that took their every opportunity to escape when they could; this made it a little more comforting to Quinn Fabray. When surrounded by flocks of people had always been when Quinn had felt most alone, and the feeling only grew with the realization that she didn't know herself, never mind the sea of nameless faces she saw regularly. As she walked through the empty ground floor corridors that appeared wider when they were abandoned, she could smell a mixture of scents wafting from the kitchens, making her nose twitch with curiosity and her stomach ache with hunger. Aside from the hazelnut latte she bought at the Starbucks earlier that day, Quinn hadn't eaten a thing and was suddenly realizing how ravenous she was. A day and a half of unyielding emotions and humiliation, she was ready to eat. And seeing as how she no longer cared what people thought about her - step one of finding who you truly are - she planned to really enjoy herself.

She walked into the almost endless dining hall, with only two other girls chit-chatting at the other side of the room. The breakfast items had been cleared away not long ago, only leaving wet rings from mugs of tea and coffee, and breadcrumbs from the buttered toast Quinn had missed out on. She passed through the door on the other side of the monstrously long dining table, and poked her head into the kitchen, where twenty odd women in white chefs uniforms went about making today's food. They carried out their work slowly and relaxed, the day being so early, and a few of them washed dishes by hand over a soapy sink.

"Can I help you, m'dear?"

Quinn was taken aback by a heavyset Scottish cook passing with a basin of flour, her auburn eyebrow raised.

"I, um... I missed breakfast-"

"Taken your time gettin' out of bed in the mornin', aye?" the woman asked, smirking knowingly.

"Actually, I had to meet a friend this morning, but... What smells so good?" asked Quinn, rudely interrupted by the enticing smell of sugar and cinnamon.

The Scottish woman smiled proudly. "That'll be my cinny buns."

"Huh?" asked Quinn, before the chef pointed to one of her tall and slender co-workers, removing a tray of cinnamon buns from the oven, each fat and soft and bursting with a buttery cinnamon centre. Quinn licked her lips as another chef poured a cup of thick creamy icing on top.

"They're for tonight's dessert," nodded the Scottish chef.

"That's too bad. I could eat, like, a hundred right now," sighed Quinn.

"One with an appetite for a change. I end up scraping every morsel of the food we slaved over all day save for the salad," complained the woman, rolling her pale blue eyes up to the heavens, "I'll tell ya right now, these lassies'll take one look at me cinny buns and run for the hills, 'fraid the butter and sugar'll stick to their skinny frames. You're a little thing, aren't ya? I hope you don't have nightmares about calories and the like."

Quinn smirked. "I don't really care about that stuff anymore."

"Well, good! Come in, come in, if these rabbits won't eat 'em, at least you can tell me how my cinny buns taste, eh?"

"Oh, that's okay-"

"Ah, go on, will ya?"

Quinn didn't need to be convinced any further. She slipped past the chef and sidled up to the slender woman setting the tray of buns on the counter.

"Don't make a mess," the thin woman said, putting a bun on a napkin and handing it to Quinn, wrinkles set into her frown.

Quinn didn't let her hands stay idle and bit deep in the cinnamon bun, sighing as the taste of warm, sweet bread and buttery cinnamon sugar fill her mouth. She hadn't tasted anything as delicious in weeks, and she licked the mild, sticky sugar icing off her lips with a satisfied smile.

"This is amazing," she said, her mouth still half full of the cinnamon pastry, turning to the Scottish woman.

The chef smiled and nodded, her blue eyes twinkling. "Tell us yer name, lass?"

"Quinn," she said, swallowing.

"Lovely name," smiled the woman, "I'm Mariota. Since you've missed breakfast, Quinn, you ought to be positively ravenous."

Quinn smiled sheepishly, and nodded.

"Well, take a seat, love, there's more where that came from."

xxx

Santana and Brittany pinky-linked through the corridors. It was something they did regularly, but rarely in public. Don't get her wrong, Santana is proud of who she is, but committing and putting her whole heart into something sounded so much riskier than being single and ready to mingle. Not that she mingled much.

Her pinky curled tighter around the other girl's when she noticed her tall, blond friend frowning, her eyebrows knitted together. Brittany was rarely so troubled.

"What's wrong, Britt?" she asked, even though she already knew well.

"I feel so bad for Quinn," sighed Brittany, "We should have let her keep her secret."

Santana winced. Brittany always sidled in to share the blame for Santana's faults. She always said 'we' when she should have been saying 'you'.

"Secrets don't help anybody, Brittany."

"But maybe we could have waited until she was ready to tell us."

Santana sighed. "That's probably what we should have done. I should have listened to you, Britt. Everyone knows you're the smart one."

Brittany showed a hint of a smile, her brow still furrowed with worry.

"Where did she go?" she asked morosely, as if her puppy ran away or her goldfish had been secretively flushed down the toilet.

"Probably to get away from things. To relax a little. Like our hideout."

Brittany smiled brightly. "We should show Quinn our hideout."

"Huh?"

"Yeah! We apologize to her and then we share our secret hideout with her."

"Britt, I don't know. I'm all for getting my sorry on, but our hideout? That's our secret getaway. Our... cuddle spot. I don't think it should be shared with anyone."

Brittany stopped walking in the silent hall and cocked her head to the side, frowning.

"Don't you want to make things right?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then this is how. Trust me. I'm the smart one, remember?"

Santana blinked and sighed, a smile creeping up onto her full lips. "I know I know..."

"Great! Let's go find my Barbie!" Brittany beamed, clutching her best friend's hand and frolicking through the hallway to look for Quinn. Brittany's keen sense of smell ended up leading them to the girl. Distracted by the strong scent of baked sugar and cinnamon, Brittany cried 'Ooh' and swerved in the direction of the empty dining hall. Well, almost empty.

Santana raised one fine black eyebrow at the dainty blond sitting at the end of the massive dining table, alone, leaning over a plate of gooey cinnamon rolls and a recipe book.

"Barbie!" cried Brittany without thinking. She let go of Santana's hand and sprinted to Quinn, throwing her arms over the girl's slim shoulders in a crushing bear hug.

"Brittany!" gasped Quinn, looking surprised and struggling to breath.

"Ease up, Britt," Santana said quietly, approaching the embracing girls. She had her eyes down on the waxed surface of the cherry wood table, guilt weighing down on her shoulders. She'd always been known for her snappish words getting her into trouble, but she'd never been ashamed of whatever had come out of her own mouth until she saw the crushing hysteria of Quinn's past in her leafy eyes.

"What are you guys doing here?" Quinn said stiffly, smoothing down her thin cotton dress and wiping a small spec of icing off the corner of her mouth.

"We wanted to say we're sorry," shrugged Brittany, ringing her hands together with her shoulders raised, optimistic.

Quinn looked down at her plate of half eaten goods. She was grateful, but she was embarrassed. Her outburst had contained everything she didn't want them to know, but perhaps it was good to be upfront with who she was to others now.

Brittany looked at Santana, her big eyes sparkling in the dim light of the dining hall.

"Yeah, Quinn..." said Santana, unversed and awkward with apologies, "We really are. Sorry."

"It's okay," said Quinn, but it barely came out as a whisper. Genuine apologies were rare.

"It's not okay," Santana sighed, and shook her shoulders as if shaking away her guilt, "... I didn't know."

"You couldn't have," Quinn said with surprise, looking straight up into the girl's deep dark eyes, "I'm sorry."

Santana looked confused, her brow furrowing and her lips curling down in a frown. "What? Quinn, you have nothing to be sorry for."

Quinn smirked. "Everyone has got to stop saying that. It's time I step up and accept some responsibility."

"What are you talking about?" asked Santana, taking a seat beside the girl in one of the cold wooden dining room chairs, Brittany following suit.

"I haven't been honest about who I am at all. I'm not... cool. I'm not a party girl or a drinker. I'm just... me. Whoever that is. I don't even know who I am."

"Well, nobody does, Q," shrugged Santana, "We're not supposed to. We're teenagers. Now's the time to figure that kind of stuff out."

Quinn nodded, her lips pursed together. "Exactly. That's why I need your help."

Santana glanced at Brittany, and back to the other blond. "Help?"

"Finding yourself has to be so much harder in a place like this. The rules, the uniform..."

"You definitely end up feeling like one of Headmistress Sylvester's emotionless autobots."

"Decepticons," corrected Brittany.

"I need to get out," Quinn said, pushing away her plate of cinnamon rolls with determination, "And I thought you'd be the person to go to if I want to get any hints about how to get expelled."

Santana smirked. "Now what would make you think a thing like that?"

Quinn smiled, shaking her head slightly. "I hear things. So, can you help me?"

Santana picked at a fingernail uneasily. "It's not that simple... I can't get dragged down too. I mean, I can't leave Brittany."

Quinn glanced between the Latina and the All American blond. Of course she couldn't. Quinn briefly pondered on what it would be like to be so tethered to one person that you wouldn't be able to bear being apart. She assumed it was more of a nuisance than it was worth.

"You wouldn't be implicated... I just need some ideas," said Quinn, her green eyes pleading.

Santana shrugged, and broke into a smile. "Ideas I can do."

"Thank you," sighed Quinn.

"We have something we want to show you," Brittany smiled brightly, practically tearing herself apart with excitement.

"Sure," said Quinn, "I just have something I need to do first. Is that okay?"

Brittany pouted, but nodded her head. "Okay. But hurry!"

xxx

Quinn shivered in her day dress and buttoned her cardigan. She could feel October approaching as she walked through the empty corridors. She passed a dusty window and spied the small stone chapel hiding behind a sparse patch of trees, their leaves wrinkling and spotting brown. It felt odd not having to go to church on a Sunday, especially being in a Catholic school now. She made a note to visit the small chapel later. For now, she had business to attend to.

She felt like she was going in for a job interview as she walked into the vast library, and she told herself to stop being so nervous. The memory of her humiliation during Sugar Motta's house party bubbled up in her brain, causing her to involuntarily shudder. She hoped no one at the school had heard about it. Dropping her desire to rule the school by no means meant she had no regard for her reputation.

Jesse wasn't haunting his usual post behind the counter. All that inhabited the librarian's space was the dangerously outdated computer, and a few books with dust caked into the corners of the spines. She peered over the desk in case he was crouching below and rummaging through the cabinets, but he was nowhere to be found. That is until she noticed that the back room door was slightly ajar, and a dim light glowed behind it.

She slid her small frame behind the desk and pushed one hand against the door. The back room appeared smaller than it was, fraught with stacks of encyclopedias and filing cabinets. Jesse's brow was furrowed as he hunched over a stack, shuffling the books into alphabetical order. His eyes quivered upwards and widened with recognition, his fingers freezing over the leather bound volumes.

"Quinn," he said, his mouth twitching into a pleasantly surprised smile.

"I hope this isn't a bad time," she said, her hands clasped together as he rose from the ground and shook dust off of his white t-shirt.

"Not at all," he said, stepping a few feet towards her, his silvery eyes eager and his face flawlessly shaven, "How may I help you?"

Under the yellowish light of the small room, he reached one long arm over her shoulder and pushed the door closed, Quinn tensing at the closeness of their bodies. Any boy invading her personal bubble sent shivers along her back, ever since Puck. She lowered her eyes to the squeaky clean state of Jesse's dress shoes.

"I wanted to let you know that I won't be working for you anymore," she said quietly, wanting to get this over and done with. When he didn't reply, her eyes fluttered up to his to catch his reaction and was surprised him smirking smugly.

"I hope I didn't work you too hard in these short few days."

"No, of course not-"

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No. You've been great."

"Quinn, there's no need to be embarrassed."

Quinn's mouth fell open and her eyebrows knitted together.

"I'm not."

"Quinn," he smirked condescendingly, "It's okay."

Quinn stomach gurgled. This was exactly the conversation she wanted to avoid. She preferred the painful humiliation to Jesse's pity.

"You're blushing," he noticed as she felt her cheeks getting hot.

She rolled her eyes. It didn't take a genius to know that Quinn felt embarrassed and degraded at the mere mention of last night's ordeal. She could just imagined the way Rachel Berry wrinkled her nose at the acidic smell of Quinn's alcohol and stress induced vomit. The very thought made her cheeks grow even hotter, making Jesse chuckle at the increased redness.

"That's not why I'm stepping down," said Quinn, blinking and trying to regain her cool composure. She was telling God's honest truth. As much as she wanted to shrink away from the humiliation of what happened in front of Rachel and Jesse, there was a much more pressing factor that she no longer needed to be with Jesse. She didn't need a boyfriend anymore, so she would quit the chase. Especially now that he had been scooped by Rachel Berry herself. There was no reason to be stuck with a boring job that didn't pay.

But Jesse just stood there, smirking knowingly, his eyes hungrily lingering over her. He brushed a loose blond lock of her hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear with a subtle caress to the side of her head. She stiffened uncomfortably, her eyes on his hand as he pulled it away, grinning openly to show his array of straight white teeth.

"You're adorable when you're humiliated," he noted, his voice soft and luscious.

"What are you doing?" she asked, averting her eyes to the small window that overlooked an ocean of coniferous trees. Her arms were tight and still on either side and she felt the pulsating need to walk away and not look back.

"Quinn? Still with the coy school girl facade?" he asked with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, with mock exhaustion in his voice. He slid his hand against her arm and leaned in, planting his lips firmly on hers.

It took her a moment to register that Jesse St. James was kissing her, and his hand was moving to the small of her back. She tensed more stiffly than ever under the feeling of his dry lips and she pulled away when his tongue snaked against her stubbornly closed lips.

She held up her arms almost in defense and she felt her face contort angrily.

"Jesse!" she snapped, though he was clearly confused and speechless by their sudden broken embrace.

"I thought this was what you wanted," he said, his parted lips now moist.

"No!"

"No? You wanted to kiss me just last night, Quinn. Or was I getting mixed signals?"

Quinn's face relaxed and she slumped her shoulders, frowning sheepishly. How could she have forgotten about how she led the boy along the entire past week? Every flirty glance and brushed hands had been leading up to this, and clearly he was baffled as to why she was so angry about it. She played the part of the ready and willing virgin school girl. Only, Rachel had played it more convincingly. Or perhaps Rachel wasn't playing at all.

"What about Rachel?" asked Quinn, the thought of it only just occurring to her as she relived the moment she'd stumbled upon Rachel and Jesse interlocked in a passionate embrace, their lips connected intimately.

"What about Rachel?"

"Aren't you two... an item? I walked in you guys getting seriously hot and heavy, right before..."

Jesse shook his head, smiling even wider than before to show off his sharp incisors, and running his fingers through his stringy dark hair.

"You didn't strike me as the type of girl to think a kiss seals the deal of commitment, Quinn Fabray," he smirked.

Quinn pursed her lips. She definitely wasn't. "Rachel seems like that kind of girl, though," she said, squinting her pale green eyes at Jesse, "Are you sure she doesn't think that the whole commitment deal has been sealed?"

Jesse scoffed. "Do you care? You don't even like her?"

Quinn flinched and opened her mouth in defense. "Of course I don't. But... I don't like unfaithful men either."

"How can I be unfaithful to someone I'm not committed to?" Jesse chuckled, "Contrary to what you seem to believe, I at no point agreed to be Rachel's boyfriend, and the possibility of the future of me as Mr. Rachel Berry is exceedingly doubtful. I was just having fun, Quinn. She's a kid. She's clingy. Needy."

"She's the same age as I am."

"You're an old soul, Quinn."

Quinn scowled. "You don't know me."

His smile faded and he eyes her up and down, lingering longingly around her torso. "I want to know you," he said enticingly.

Quinn rolled her eyes. She knew what was meant when a guy as smooth as Jesse said something like that. He didn't want to know her. He wanted to her know her touch. Her body. Her skin was beginning to crawl and she hated this twisted mess she created. Every she touches seemed to fall to pieces.

"No, you don't," she replied all too knowingly, shaking her head.

The only things that made Jesse think she was pretty were her unnaturally beautiful face and her slim, athletic body. She saw the way his eyes lingered over her flat stomach and her perky chest. He was a pig just like the rest of them.

"Yes, I do," he sighed, edging closer.

"You don't," Quinn pressed, her lips pursed tight and stern.

She watched Jesse's jaw clench visibly as his frustration grew. She easily took him for a guy who didn't know how to take no for an answer. He made the great accident of mistaking the tense atmosphere for a passionate one. He lunged forward, and with an intense grip, he grabbed Quinn by the shoulders and pulled her forward in some sort of tight bear hug. This time when he kissed her his tongue snaked into her mouth like a forceful serpent and she had it in the back of her mind to bite it, but she refrained. His breathing became heavy and warm against her as he leaned into her, his hands sliding over her body. Pushing her arms hard against his rapidly rising chest, she wriggled out of his grasp and wiped her mouth, her anger and repulsion showing in her expression.

"That's enough!" she said, hating the desperation she could hear in her voice, "I don't like you, Jesse, and I definitely don't like being manhandled."

"Don't be stupid, Quinn."

"Excuse me?"

Jesse smirked and with another 'passionate' lunge he had Quinn pinned against the wall. In that moment she suspected she was more annoyed than scared, feeling his baby soft skin rubbing against hers, but she started to panic as she scrambled out of his grip without success, his hard hands clutching against hers tighter as he backed her into a corner, still wildly nuzzling her neck as she yelled out for him to stop, his hands wriggling all over her body, sliding under the hem of her dress.

"Get off of her!"

Quinn Fabray had never heard such a ferocious yell from such a small girl. Jesse jumped practically a foot away from Quinn, whose arms fell limp at her side at the relieving side of Rachel Berry standing helplessly in the doorway, her face contorted with pain and disgust. Her mouth hung open in disbelief as she watched Jesse storm out of the back room, his face growing scarlet.

Rachel's stare lingered out of the door watching Jesse leave the scene, and a wave of guilt washed over Quinn. She could see something breaking in Rachel's eyes as a piece of her innocence shattered at the recognition that not everyone she liked and trusted was what they seemed. And Quinn felt that was her fault. Rachel's naivety wasn't exactly intact having seen the ugliness of human behavior.

"Are you okay?" asked Quinn, attempting to smooth down her clothes that were slightly askew on her body.

Rachel tore her eyes away from the door and as they landed on Quinn they burned with what could only be fury. Quinn looked down and braced herself for the words she would probably deserve.

"Are you that vapid?" asked Rachel.

Quinn sighed and stared at the floor.

"You just got sexually assaulted and you're asking me if I'm okay? You're a strange girl, Quinn Fabray."

Quinn looked back up, surprised. "It's just... you liked him."

Rachel scoffed and shrugged. "And I thought he liked me. But that's not the issue at hand, Quinn. Are you..." she said, walking closer, her hand twitching as if she wanted to place it on Quinn's shoulder but decided against it, "Are you okay?"

Quinn nodded. "I'm fine."

"We can have him fired immediately."

"No, I'm fine. Really, Rachel, it's not worth it."

"Are you sure, because my dads have friends who are lawyers-"

"No. I- Thank you, but no. I don't want to have to talk about this to other people. I just want to forget about it. He'll most likely quit now, anyways, before he gets into anymore trouble."

Rachel frowned. "Probably. If you ever want to talk, I'm here."

Quinn looked down, the corner of her mouth rising in a coy half smile. "I appreciate it, but I already have someone I can talk to."

"Oh," Rachel nodded, almost looking disappointed.

Quinn cocked her head and considered the idea. Would it really be so bad to confide in Rachel Berry? She threw the idea out of her mind. Rachel was certainly a kind and honest girl, but Quinn learned the hard way not to be so trusting. Besides, she had someone more reliable she could talk to.

xxx

Quinn shivered, walking into the school's private chapel. It was hardly big enough to fit the devout Catholic community of Lima, never mind an academy of irreligious school girls. Quinn figured that the size of the church indicated to why mass on Sundays wasn't mandatory. She wondered if this small house of God even had a priest. She rubbed her hands together in the cold, disappointed with the lack of a confession booth. She'd been hoping to get things off of her chest, but she settled that prayer was just as good. The small chapel was completely empty, so she took her pick of the very front pew and kneeled down before the mural of the blue-eyed baby Jesus.

She clutched her pale white hands together and held them to her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut and thinking about how to say what she wanted to. It had always been easier before - reciting repetitive prayers taken out of a children's illustrated bible before bedtime. Now that she was on her own, no rules and regulations about how to talk to the one being that was supposed to love her more than anything else could, she found herself lost for words.

"Hello, God," she whispered, even though she was completely alone, "I'm not sure how to get the ball rolling, exactly. It's been so long... I hope you don't think I've lost faith."

She paused a moment, unsure how to proceed with the glassy eyes of the saints watching her from the stained windows.

"I need a mission. I always have. I used to think it was to get popular, but once I got that, it wasn't enough," she sighed, "And you know what came out of my ... boredom. I've hurt so many people... I want to stop. My parents, Puck, Beth, not to mention all of those people I tormented back in Lima just because they reminded me of what I used to be. And now Rachel has to deal with losing the guy she liked just because I'm a predatorial bitch..."

Quinn looked around at the empty space. It was so much easier to admit how she felt about herself with no one around.

"I hate who I pretend to be," she admitted quietly, "I want to find out who I really am, because whoever that is has to be better than Quinn."

She quietly wondered if remaining Lucy would have been better for everyone. She wondered if Lucy was who she really was.

"I need your help," she concluded, "I know you don't owe me anything, but if you give me a chance, I want to make your proud. Amen."

She stood up, her knees wobbly and nervous. She had a sudden ill feeling in her stomach, as if scared to reveal who she really was in case she didn't like it.


	5. The Homecoming to Rule Them All

Balling her pale fists, Quinn walked from the academy's cold, stony chapel back to her bedroom, waiting for something to happen - anything. Her mother always said that God worked in mysterious ways, but she kind of wanted a miracle fix; the sooner the better. She just hated feeling so tired all the time. Tired of being herself. Today had been insanely eventful, and there was nothing she wanted more than to go to her room and collapse on her bed. She turned the handle of the door and pushed it open.

"Where have you been?" groaned Santana, lounging on Brittany's bed.

Brittany sat on the end of her bed and looked up at Quinn with excitement, her stuffed unicorn tucked under her armpit.

"Quinn, what took you so long? We have something we want to show you!" she beamed, her eyes sparkling like a little kid.

"Oh, yeah," Quinn shook her head, tired, "I totally forgot. I just had to... take care of something."

She almost felt like blushing, thinking about how not twenty minutes ago, Jesse had her pinned down and terrified in the abandoned back room of the library. If it weren't for Rachel, she had no idea what would have happened...

"Well, get some boots on, because we can't get you through the woods in those ballet flats, Barbie," smirked Santana, hopping up off the bed, in sync with Brittany.

"The woods?" Quinn raised an eyebrow, "It sounds like you guys are going to show me a dead body."

Brittany gasped. "No! Way nicer than that. Come on, it's a secret."

Quinn longingly eyed her bed. It never looked so comfortable.

"I don't know... I'm pretty tired. It's been a long day. Can you guys bring me tomorrow?"

Santana dropped her hip and sulked. "It's now or never. You can nap later, grandma. Sleep when you're dead."

Quinn pursed her lips and went to her armoire to trade her flats for a pair of combat boots. She didn't know where Santana and Brittany got their infinite energy, but she wanted some.

It wasn't long before Quinn was following Santana and Brittany down a winding path through the forests on the outskirts of the academy grounds, navigating fluidly through the overgrown bushes and damp, mossy trees, somehow knowing where they were going in a landmark-less scenery.

"How far away is this... thing?" Quinn groaned, twigs and leaves tickling her bare calves.

"Not far," said Brittany.

"Hold your panties on, Fabray," Santana rolled her eyes, smiling warmly, as they kept on pushing past vegetation, with Quinn reluctantly trying to keep up.

Quinn was right about ready to give up and leave when suddenly the three panting girls came to a small clearing in the forest where, under the low hanging, leafy branch of an overgrown tree, was a little shed with a rickety wooden door and ivy growing all along the side.

"This is what you wanted to show me so badly?" Quinn wrinkled her nose at the shed.

It was just... a _shed_. There was nothing special about it. In fact, it was even less appealing than your average, boring shed. It looked dilapidated and ready to cave in at any moment.

"It's our hideout," Brittany beamed, almost bursting with excitement.

Quinn eyed it over. There was only one small window, caked with dust. It looked like a place where animals go to die.

"Come on, we'll show you," said Santana, heading for the door.

"I am not going inside that thing," Quinn folded her arms with a tone of finality.

"Stop being such a priss," said Santana, and grabbed one of Quinn's hands, pulling her to the shed.

She kicked the door open and led Quinn into the darkness, and for one sinking moment, Quinn thought she was about to be murdered. That is, until Santana flipped on a light switch, and a million sparkling little fairy lights turned on, sprawled around the walls, the ceiling, and even over a mini fridge in the corner.

"Wow," Quinn sighed, and inspected the tiny room. Most of the floor was taken up by a blow up mattress with a Betty Boop bedspread over it, and most of the ceiling was taken up by an oversized Harry Potter poster.

"I know," said Santana, hands on her hips like she was proud of her little home.

"We come here for sleepovers sometimes," said Brittany, walking over to a square whicker basket and sitting on it, "There are magazines in here, and a TV."

"It's one of the little portable ones, with a DVD player in it," said Santana, "We don't have a lot of movies, though. Just a couple Disney flicks, Leprechaun, White Chicks... We could probably go pick up some DVDs this weekend... If you want."

"And we can have another sleepover," Brittany smiled, looking like a giddy toddler, "The three of us."

"The three of us?" Quinn raised an eyebrow, in awe as she looked around at Brittany and Santana's hideout.

"Sure," said Santana, "The mattress is big enough for three, probably. We can watch some movies, eat some junk food in the mini fridge..."

Quinn blinked and thought about having a sleepover with her new cellmates in a derelict old shack, eating Brittany's sticky jolly ranchers and watching whatever crappy DVDs they could find cheap at the lame movie store in town. The whole thing sounded... perfect. Quinn bit her lip as tears spilled over her eyelids.

"Um..." Santana said, uncomfortable in the midst of someone crying.

She didn't know how to handle tears, unless they were her own. Brittany was the maternal one. Britt got off of the wicker basket and moved to Quinn, putting a slender arm around the girl's shoulders.

"What's wrong, Quinn?" she asked, softly.

"Nothing," Quinn shook her head, tears falling off of her cheeks, "This is really nice."

"Well... we felt bad for what we did," Santana shrugged.

Quinn nodded. "It's just..." she sighed, and a wad of emotion balled up in her throat, as it did whenever she had to say something that was hard to admit, "...I've never been to a sleepover before."

Santana and Brittany gave each other a surprised look.

"Nuh uh. A girl like you? You had to be popular back at your hometown," Santana shook her head.

"I was, I just... I never had real friends. Who actually wanted to spend more time with me than necessary," said Quinn, wiping tears out from under her red, puffy eyelids.

Brittany smiled, and squeezed Quinn's shoulders tighter. "You do now."

Quinn nodded and tried on a weary smile. "Thank you."

"Aint no thing," Santana shrugged, "Anyways, I had an idea. You still want to get out of this dump, right?"

Quinn nodded and wiped away the last of her tears. "You thought of something?"

"Well, Britt helped. She reminded me that boys, like the ones from our neighbor school, are strictly forbidden from our dorms after hours. And vice versa," Santana smirked like a sly vixen.

"You think I'd get expelled if a boy were in my dorm after hours?" asked Quinn.

"Or if you were in a boys' dorm after hours," Santana smiled, excited by the scandal of her plan.

Quinn wrung her hands together. "I don't know..."

"Come on! Headmistress Sylvester is completely anti-fun. She's just looking for a reason to kick people out. This would be a great one."

"I know, it's just that being in a boys' dorm after hours kind of has to entail a boy inviting me to his dorm after hours."

Santana rolled her eyes and smiled. "And have you seen your Barbie doll face? Any boy would literally kill to have you in his bedroom after hours."

Quinn shrugged. "I'm just not looking for that kind of attention from guys anymore..."

"I get that," said Santana, "But it's not like you'll have to deal with the poor schmuck after you get expelled. And besides, the Holy Trinity dudes aren't total dogs. Some of them are even pretty hot."

Quinn shuffled her feet and sighed. "Okay," she said quietly.

"Okay?" Santana asked hopefully.

Quinn nodded, and smiled at the girl. "Okay," she said, brighter.

"Okay!" Brittany cheered.

xxx

Santana let go of a sigh trapped in her chest as she sank into a polyester seat, front and centre, opposite Headmistress Sylvester's desk. With Brittany and Rachel Berry at her either side, she hoped with every fibre of her being that Sue was going to say what Santana thought she was.

Headmistress Sylvester stared at the three of them with a piercing glare and finally said, "I'm releasing the three of you from your punishment."

Santana couldn't help but throw both arms into the air in victory. "Yes! God, thank you," she exclaimed, flooded with relief, "If I had to hear one more word about-"

"Don't even finish your sentence, Santana. There are only so many put downs even you can give me without them getting repetitive and, frankly, boring," Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Warwick Davis is right," Santana shrugged, "I'd need a freaking dictionary and a semester of lit classes to keep churning out new insults for you."

"Not so fast, ladies," Headmistress Sylvester held up her hand, "As much as I love to hear you rip up each other's spirits to shreds with the acidic burn of your words, I have to interrupt. My kindness comes with conditions."

"Kindness? May I remind you that I did nothing to deserve a punishment," Rachel exclaimed, distressed.

"No you may not," said Headmistress Sylvester, "Now, if that god awful buzzing sound of your voice would cease, I could continue my clause."

"Please continue, Ms. Sylvester," Santana smiled smugly, happy to see that she wasn't the only one who couldn't help but hate Rachel Berry.

"Thank you, Sandbags," nodded Sue, "Now, as you know, the annual homecoming dance is dawning and even though it's a staple tradition in high school communities, I could care less about it. Therefore, the only way the dance can continue is if someone completely plans and hosts it, for free, and without bothering me. The poor schlubs stuck with the job are you three."

Santana, Brittany and Rachel shared a brief glance.

"Wait- What?" said Santana, raising a hand in confusion.

"You want _these two _to help me plan the _annual homecoming event_! They're not even on the event planning committee!" Rachel cried, outraged. She even went as far as standing up dramatically and pacing the space of Headmistress Sylvester's office, in emphatic distress.

"Ms. Sylvester, I don't plan parties, I just bring them to life," said Santana, "And besides, tolerating the hobbit's existence is one thing, but having to co-operate with her? It's virtually impossible."

"I'm impossible? _I'm _impossible?" cried Rachel.

"Keep saying it. Won't make it any less true," Santana shrugged.

Rachel balled her fists, furious, until she let out a great sigh, not letting Santana Lopez get the best of her.

"I'm sorry, Headmistress Sylvester," Rachel said calmly, her chin stuck in the air, "But co-operating with these two... delinquents... is simply impossible."

Sue shrugged and leaned back in her seat. "So be it. Your punishment will continue... for the remaining academic year."

Rachel's mouth dropped open, and her hands fell to her sides.

"The rest of the _year_?" Santana exclaimed, outraged as she lunged forward in her seat, gripping the wooden arms of the chair, "No. No no no. Uh uh. I cannot- _Will not_- You can't do that! Tu esta loca!"

Santana babbled in a rage, as Rachel smoothed her hair back, composed and defiant.

"Absolutely not," Rachel shook her head, "I won't allow it."

"Great. So we're settled. You ladies have fun planning the homecoming dance," said Sue with a tone of finality, opening her journal to begin another entry, "You may leave."

"But-"

"Leave."

xxx

The three girls left Headmistress Sylvester's office with scowls on their faces. Santana did not want to spend her time planning some lame school dance with some lame schoolmate. It didn't make any sense to be the one making the punch when she was the one who was going to spike it later on.

Rachel didn't want her name on the event planning committee sullied by whatever shenanigans Santana planned to get into. She was honored to be the homecoming dance's primary planner, and wanted everything to go absolutely perfectly.

Brittany was just upset that everyone else was upset. She hated seeing Santana's forehead wrinkly with anger. Planning parties sounded fun to Brittany; she didn't understand the punishment. She wished everyone could see it her way.

"I take it without a doubt that you want to spend your time with me just as much as I do with you, Santana," Rachel sighed as they all walked out of the headmistress's office, "So you just go about your business and I'll take full control of planning the homecoming dance. I'll give you and Brittany credit, but I'll do it on my own."

"Uh uh," Santana raised a finger to Rachel's face, "I do not want credit for whatever lame, boring, tacky dance you have in mind. If we're gonna have to do this together, we're gonna do this _together_. Meaning my awesome taste will counteract some of your horrendous sense of fun."

"Excuse me? I have been a core member of the Holy Trinity Academy event planning committee for over two years now and this is my moment to shine as a primary planner-"

"Fascinating details, Berry, but you heard Ms. Sylvester. The three of us. Together. Equally. Meaning you don't get to take the role as 'supervisor'. You have to put in some actual work like the rest of us."

"I'm sorry, do I hear you giving me a lecture on putting in a day's honest work? You? I don't even remember the last time I've seen you attend Social Studies! You got a B in your last Spanish test!"

"What's wrong with getting a B?"

"You speak fluent Spanish!"

"Stop the violence!" Brittany yelled in the school hallway, some students milling around and staring curiously.

Santana sighed, her shoulders drooping in defeat. "Brittany's right. If we're gonna get this done and end this heinous punishment once and for all, we need to work together."

"Okay," Rachel nodded, "We need to come up with a theme. I already have storyboards set up if you'd like to see the presentation-"

"God, no," Santana groaned, slowly walking down the hall with the girls on either side of her, "Just tell us what it is now. I'm sure I'll hate it."

Rachel sighed impatiently. "Fine. I planned to perfection a 1950s themed extravaganza, based on the classic musical, Grease."

"Barf," said Santana.

"Can you hear me out? It's an excellent idea. We can decorate the gym just as it was in the school dance in the second half of the film. Everyone can dress up in poodle skirts and gel their hair. We can even do the hand jive!"  
>"Barf, barf and more barf, Berry," Santana rolled her eyes, "Super boring and insanely lame."<p>

"Do you have a better idea?" Rachel asked, folding her arms as she walked into the common room with Brittany and Santana.

"I do, actually," said Santana, taking a seat at the couch by the fireplace.

"An idea that doesn't involve felony," Rachel rolled her eyes.

"_Yes_. All of your stupid prom themes are so overdone. What about something no one's ever done?"

"I'm listening," Rachel sighed, taking a seat opposite Santana on an old-fashioned armchair.

"What about a total punk rock fest?"

"What?" Rachel wrinkled her nose.

"Yeah," said Santana, "I mean, I'm not a huge rocker or anything, but the atmo would be incred."

"...What?"

"I'm thinking Fall Out Boy's _Dance Dance _video or something. We could book some cool indie bands. Everyone would have to come looking a little edgy. It'd be awesome."

"It'd be a riot."

"Precisely."

"Santana, are you taking this seriously?"

"Are you? _50s theme_? Really? Because people are gonna get pumped for that?"

"It's _charming_!"

"No one looks twice for charming. They do for sexy. Don't you want to appeal to the masses?"

"Of course, but-

"Punk rock it is."

"You don't get to decide that, Santana. We're supposed to work together, remember?"

"Fine. Britt, what do you think?"

The girls looked at Brittany, sitting cross-legged at the fireplace.

"Nyan cat," she replied, after a moment of thoughtful silence.

"Huh?" said Santana.

"We can serve milk and pop tarts," said Brittany.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "This is ridiculous."

As she was about to get up and leave, the door to the common room swung open, and Quinn Fabray walked in in her school uniform, her blond hair loose over her shoulders.

"Thank God. Quinn, can you talk some sense into Frodo?" Santana sighed.

"What's going on?" asked Quinn, her hands on her hips, tiresomely anticipating the details of yet another Lopez vs. Berry argument.

"We have to plan the homecoming dance together," explained Rachel, "And we're having a dispute about which theme to go for."

Quinn wrinkled her brow. Homecoming? She had no idea they had that boarding schools. Last year, she made Homecoming Queen right before everything crumbled in front of her. That crown was the last symbol of who she used to be.

"I want to go for a Grease-inspired 50s theme," Rachel continued, "Hoop skirts, confetti, swing music; everything to make a perfect blast from the past."

"And seeing how that is totally lame, I suggested punk rock. Headbanging, black lace, hot drummers... Stuff that's _cool_. What do you think?" asked Santana.

Quinn bit her lip. A punk rock homecoming didn't sound like her thing at all, but then again a Grease-theme didn't either. She couldn't help being a traditional kind of girl. When she thought of school dances, she thought of puffy pink dresses and a punch bowls and tiaras; not headbanging or hoop skirts.

"What about... having a kind of homecoming that everyone dreams of," Quinn said thoughtfully, "Like stepping into a John Hughes film. The mother of all homecomings with every school dance cliche in the book."

Rachel and Santana blinked at the blond, and back at each other.

"Quinn... That's good. That's _really _good," Rachel said, quietly excited.

"It's better than good, it's brilliant. Quinn Fabray, I could kiss you," Santana beamed.

"I still thought nyan cat was a good idea," Brittany mumbled jealously.

"It was, boo," said Santana, patting her best friend on the shoulder.

"So it's settled. The homecoming to rule them all," smiled Rachel.

xxx


	6. Guys and Guidelines

"Alright, ladies, we have a lot of work ahead of us," Rachel clasped her hands together with glee and picked up four laminated sheets of paper from the cracked mahogany coffee tables in the common room, handing it to the three girls that sat in front of her.

Santana wrinkled her nose at the sheet and Quinn read it with mild interest. She noted that Rachel Berry certainly was organised. She noticed that her laminated pages were a pale shade of dusty rose and that the font she used was custom and really quite fancy. The page read:

**Homecoming Dance Organisational Guidelines**

**Invitations**

Custom-made invitations must be styled to reflect the appropriate prom theme and include the date, time and venue as well as have spaces to check off RSVPs and plus ones, as well as the names of the attendants.

**Decorations**

Decorations may or may not include streamers, balloons, tablecloths for the buffet tables and homecoming announcement posters. Crowns and sashes must also be bought for the homecoming king and queen. The style must reflect the theme of the dance.

**Menu**

Appetizers and beverages must be bought for a buffet-style meal, and possibly hors d'oeuvres can be carried through the venue by chaperones. The food must be allergy friendly and not contain peanuts, soy or shellfish. Also, some vegetarian and vegan options must be provided.

**Music**

A DJ must be hired to provide a playlist of _appropriate _songs that reflect the theme of the homecoming dance. This includes the responsibility of choosing a song for the homecoming royalty to dance to.

**Gift Bags**

Gift bags are handed to the attendants as they leave the homecoming dance venue, and should include small, appropriate party favors that reflect the theme of the dance.

**Entertainment**

Booths, tables or stations can be set up in the homecoming venue to provide different types of entertainment for the party goers that reflect the theme of the dance, e.g., photo booth, face painting.

"Jesus, Berry," Santana sighed to herself.

"I'm just trying to make this as easy as possible for all of us," Rachel sighed defensively.

"Still, controlling, much?" scoffed Santana, "I mean, I know none of us could ever reach the level of intelligence of Your Royal Highness Loser of Loserville, but we're not complete morons. We know how to plan a party."

"I am not doubting that," Rachel shook her head, "I just think that my two years on the event planning committee has given me a certain air of experience."

"And I think my seventeen years as the official state life of the party has given _me _a certain air of experience, and just a little nugget of knowledge? Overthinking it and over-planning it is never going to amount to a good party. Sometimes you have to be spontaneous."

Rachel folded her arms and nodded thoughtfully. "Well, thank you for that wisdom, Santana. You'll be pleased to know that you have just as much input in this dance as I do, which is why each of us, you, me and Brittany, will take two responsibilities each from the guidelines and have complete control over them."

Quinn was surprised. She'd never seen Rachel so generous with her control, and to give Santana and Brittany complete reign over more than half of the homecoming dance was more than laid-back. Well, for Rachel.

"Huh," Santana folded her arms, not willing to admit that this was pretty big of Rachel, "Well, I have a better idea."

Rachel pursed her lips, annoyed. "And what is that?"

"Why don't we pair up?" Santana raised an eyebrow, "Me and Brittany, you and Quinn. Each of our pairs takes three responsibilities."

Rachel looked surprised, her mouth falling open as she looked at Quinn. Clearly, this was something she hadn't considered, but it wasn't something she was completely opposed to.

"Well, really, that's up to Quinn," she stammered slightly, "Quinn, you aren't obligated to help us. This is our punishment... For some reason. You've already helped enough by giving us the idea for the prom theme."

Quinn shrugged beside Santana and Brittany as she sat on the couch. "I don't mind."

"Oh... Well..." Rachel began to say, stifling her giddiness. She had a feeling if it were up to her, Santana and Brittany, that she would constantly be the third wheel, or possibly even the lone wheel, but now that she and Quinn would be working closely together... Rachel hadn't liked the girl at all from the start, but ever since she walked in on Jesse pouncing on the lithe blond, well, they shared a secret and sharing secrets has a habit of bonding people. In short, Rachel was excited by this turn of events.

"Great," Santana smiled, and looked at Rachel's guidelines again, "Brittany and I will take music. Brittany has a history as a freaking genius party DJ."

"It's true," Brittany nodded, her legs crossed on top of the couch, "I drop them beats like bombs."

Rachel blinked. "Okay, fair enough, Quinn and I will take invitations."

"That sounds super exciting," Santana grinned, "I'll take the menu. I have a feeling if you're in charge of the food we'll all be eating vegan garbage all night."

Rachel rolled her brown eyes. "Fine, just don't spike the punch, Santana. You have a very well-known reputation."

Santana smirked proudly. "You got that right."

"Let's take gift bags," said Quinn, looking down at the paper and then back up at Rachel, "They were always my favorite part of school dances. I mean, the stuff was so cheap and cheesy that I usually ended up throwing it all away, but they were fun."

Rachel smiled blithely. "That sounds perfect. So invitations, gift bags and... entertainment?"

"Oh, no," Santana shook her head, "Uh uh. There is no universe where anyone should let _you _be in charge of entertainment."

"For your information, I have a talent for entertaining the masses, Santana. In fact, I'm pursuing a career in the entertainment industry. I'm known back in my hometown for entertaining the neighbors with impromptu performances during me and my fathers' annual Oscar parties."

Santana smirked to herself. "Always the wild child, Berry, but I don't care. Me and Brittany are taking entertainment. You and Quinn can take... What's left?"

"Decorations," answered Quinn.

Rachel sighed in defeat. "Fine. Decorations it is. Now, we better get to work. You and Brittany should set out a plan for yourself. A checklist for each responsibility."

"Sure, sure," Santana rolled her eyes and stood up, smoothing down her skirt and giving Brittany a helping hand up, "We'll leave you two to it, then. Have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Which is almost nothing."

Santana and Brittany froliced out of the common room, leaving an awkward silence between Rachel and Quinn. Rachel smoothed down her too-long skirt and took a seat beside Quinn.

"What trouble do you think those two are going to make for me?" Rachel smirked, only joking a little.

Quinn shrugged. "I don't think they'll be so bad. I mean, they want to have a good homecoming, too, so I don't see any sabotage in their future."

Rachel chuckled briefly, before another awkward silence washed over them. Quinn kept her eyes on the page of guidelines and not on Rachel's cute, knee length argyle socks or her watchful brown eyes or long, wavy, chestnut brown hair. She'd come to like her - admire her, even - so much more since that whole incident in the back room of the library. She'd asked Rachel to keep it between them, and so far, she had. At the same time, though, Quinn was still embarrassed. She knew that what Jesse had done was over the line - miles over it. Lightyears, even. Even so, it had broken Rachel's heart and Quinn couldn't help but fear that that's how she'd always see her. Pinned under Jesse St. James's invasive lips and heaving chest.

"Jesse quit," Rachel said, suddenly, softly, breaking the silence.

Quinn looked back up at her, not quite meeting her eyes. "Oh?"

"Yeah," Rachel sighed, "I suppose he wanted to leave the school before someone found out about what happened and had him fired. He was probably really paranoid. He tends to be like that. Fixating on anything that might ruin him. Jumping the gun. I used to think that was his only flaw, but... Obviously not."

Quinn blinked at Rachel. After the incident had happened, Rachel had asked Quinn if she wanted to talk, but Quinn had rejected that. She opted for praying instead. It was much more... freeing. However, it had never occurred to Quinn that perhaps Rachel was the one who needed to talk.

And Quinn would have been right in that theory. Rachel was just sitting there, her eyes boring curiously into Quinn. Rachel needed to know, needed to be assured, that Quinn was okay. She couldn't imagine how scared she must have been and wanted to be there for her. Some part of her knew that it was a selfish human need to do good for a person and want them to know it, but it didn't change the fact that Rachel was over eager to have Quinn come spill her guts to her. She wanted to know how she felt. How she feels now. How she feels about her, maybe. Did Quinn not want to talk because Quinn was like that? Stoic and mysterious. Or did Quinn not want to talk because she didn't want to talk to Rachel? After all, she said she had someone else to talk to? Who?

"Do you think you'll miss him?" Quinn asked.

Rachel hadn't expected that question. "Miss him?" she wrinkled her nose, "Of course not. After what he did to you?"

"No, I mean... Before any of that, you were pretty close. Do you think you'll miss that? Being with the guy you thought he was?"

Rachel frowned and thought about that for a moment. "Maybe. Maybe I'll miss talking to someone about Broadway. We did have the same ambitions, but... Jesse was always so distant and unattainable. I knew that it would never really happen between me and him, and even if it did, it wouldn't last. We're too similar."

It was Quinn's turn to wrinkle her nose in disdain. "No, you're not. Not even a little. Sure, you're both ambitious and talented, but Jesse was a creep. He didn't care about anyone but himself. He was unattached and emotionless. You're not like that."

Rachel smirked. "How can you be so sure about that?"

Quinn shrugged. "I'm a pretty good judge of character, Rachel. Excellent, actually. Even when we first met, I knew you weren't like him. You care about things with a level of passion that Jesse could never attain. Never."

Rachel blushed and looked away into the dimly glowing fire of the common room fireplace.

"Thank you," she said after a few moments of silence. She feared that Jesse truly was her male counterpart and that she was just as controlling and calculating as he was. She was happy now to know what Quinn thought of her.

"We should start making the invitations," said Quinn.

"Yes," Rachel nodded quickly, regaining her stature and standing up, "I was thinking the invitations could be in the shape of a pink ball gowns, like in Pretty In Pink, and we could send ones in the shape of bow ties to the boys' school."

Quinn smiled, her pink lips full and warm. "Or what about Duckie's hat?"

Rachel grinned. "Even better. You know, I always wanted her to end up with Duckie."

Quinn smiled. "So did I."

"You did?"

"Definitely. Duckie was the one who saved Andie at prom. Not Blane."

"I know!" Rachel smiled widely, and then after a little hesitance, asked, "Do you know who you're taking to the dance?"

Quinn shook her head. "I don't know anyone," she said, "But Santana and Brittany are taking me to some hangout called Spinners after school to meet some guys from the boys' academy."

"Oh," nodded Rachel, "Of course." Of course it was that easy for a girl like Quinn. Meet a boy once and have him immediately smitten enough to ask her to homecoming. Rachel didn't doubt for a second that that's what would happen.

"You can come if you want," said Quinn.

Rachel's eyes widened. "Oh, no," Rachel laughed, shaking her head, "Socializing doesn't really come easy to me. It takes people a while to warm up to me, if ever."

Quinn smiled sympathetically. "Please, come with us. I don't know anyone and I know that Santana and Brittany will know them all... Just, having another one of my friends with me will make me feel like less of a loner."

Rachel highly doubted that Quinn had to feel like a loner in any situation, but she slowly nodded her head.

"Okay. I'll go."

xxx

This sudden group outing did not sit right with Santana Lopez. This was meant to be an epic day out with the trio - the _Un_holy Trinity - out on the town and they would meet another trio of equally - well, almost - hot guys, to take to the homecoming dance. Taking _that thing _along with them was going to be like social suicide. She would rather tell everyone in the entire state of Ohio that she was gay for Brittany than tell a living soul that she was friends with Rachel Berry. Not that she was! But by some cruel hand of fate, it was Quinn who had taken a liking to her.

"We're here," Santana sighed as the public bus into town had stopped near enough to Spinners.

The four of them got out and took their bad selves into the teen hangout. Spinners was Santana's second favorite place in town, the first one being her and Brittany's hangout in the woods. Spinners sold really cheap burgers and fries, but since the majority of the patrons were just the boys and girls from the uptown boarding schools, they mostly bought cheap, watered down sodas and then sat around at all of big, plastic tables, trading gossip and acting like idiots. Santana slunk into a booth by the window, followed by Brittany, Quinn and Rachel. To Santana's surprise, Rachel was wearing a mini skirt. A gold buttoned, very preppy one, granted, but a mini skirt nonetheless. This was very possibly the first time Santana had ever laid eyes upon the girl's legs, and if she was forced to admit it, well, they weren't so bad.

"Look, there are the guys," Brittany said, pointing over at a table of guys their age who looked vaguely familiar to Rachel, "Hey, guys! Over here!"

Quinn and Rachel sank quietly into their seats as three guys - all better looking than either of them had expected - walked over to them and joined them at their table.

"Guys, we have some newbies to introduce," Santana smirked as she gestured to Rachel and Quinn with a flourish, "This is our new friend Quinn Fabray and this is, um, Rachel..."

The guys gave them a low chorus of heys.

"This is Mike," said Brittany, leaning affectionately into a lanky Asian guy, "We're always dance partners in the end of year dance crew competition."

"Brittany's got mad moves," Mike smirked.

"And this is Finn," said Santana, gesturing to a guy beside her who was tall - really tall - and a little burly, "He may look like sasquatch, but trust me, he's pure marshmallow."

Finn smiled wearily as Santana poked his stomach. "Yeah, well... This is Sam," said Finn, and the cute blonde boy beside him nodded curtly to the girls, "He's kinda new at school."

"So am I," Quinn smiled warmly, "I just started this year."

Sam nodded. "Same," said Sam, "I used to live in Kentucky."

"Oh, really? I just come from another town in Ohio, not far from here. Lima."

Sam furrowed his brow. "I don't think I've heard of it."

"No one has," Quinn laughed.

Rachel looked up as another boy approached through the doors of Spinners, chivalrously taking off his silver fedora. He looked small and nimble, with a pointy button nose and watery blue-ish eyes. He was closely followed by another boy, who was even shorter, with thick, gelled black hair and a bow tie. As the boys approached, Finn looked up and said,

"Oh, you guys, this is my step-brother Kurt and, um, his friend, Blaine."

Kurt smirked and set his fedora down on the table. "My _boy_friend, Blaine," he corrected, and the two pulled up a few extra chairs.

"Figured," Santana said bluntly.

"This is my first time in Spinners, actually," said Sam, leaning into Quinn as all of the others went off into their own conversations and inside jokes.

"Me, too," said Quinn, "What do you think of it so far?"

Sam smirked. "Honestly? It's not as great as everybody made it out to be, but... I guess everyone comes here to meet people, and that's working out pretty well so far."

Quinn smiled, blushing just slightly. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded.

His lips looked cute when he smirked, Quinn noted. She turned away from them, just for a moment, to look at Rachel. The girl was twisting a napkin into some sort of spiral and looking down intently at her hands.

"Hey, Rachel," Quinn gauged her attention, "Meet Sam."

Rachel looked up at Sam and pursed her lips. "Nice to meet you. I'm Rachel."

"Yeah," said Sam, a frozen smile on his face, "Are you new, too?"

"Oh, no," said Rachel, "I've been at the academy since freshman year. I just... I don't go out much."

"Right," Sam nodded as if that made perfect sense.

After an awkward silence, Rachel sighed and set down her napkin.

"I'm going to get a drink," she said to Quinn, "Do you want anything?"

"Oh, no thanks," Quinn shook her head.  
>Rachel rose from the table and walked away, going to the counter to wait for service. She sighed a heavy breath, regretting her decision to accompany the girls to Spinners. She knew very well that she wasn't needed there and wouldn't have - or be - any fun. If anything, she was bringing the whole mood down, and she hated herself for it. She didn't know how to be bright or fun or cool like Brittany or Santana or Quinn. Rachel was just Rachel. She liked to stay home and write lists and organise her DVD collection and study, and she didn't see what was so wrong with that. Sure, she liked having fun with friends just as much as anyone else, but she didn't like being pushed into social situations where she didn't know how to conduct herself. She sighed, disappointed that she couldn't just be laid back like the rest of them. She looked to her side as she was joined by Kurt, the small and nimble step-brother of the big and bulky Finn.<p>

"Oh, hi," she said as he waited at the counter with her, "I like your sweater."

Kurt smiled and looked down at his red, wrap around sweater, buckled and cinched at the waist with a dark, sparkly belt.

"Alexander McQueen," Kurt replied, "And thank you. I like your... loafers."

Rachel scoffed. "I don't really know how to dress for... social gatherings."

Kurt laughed to himself. "It's probably a little overwhelming. Sitting with a bunch of people you don't know, all talking to each other about stuff you don't know about."

Rachel nodded vehemently. "Very," she said, "You seem okay, though. You and... Blaine, is it?"

"Yes."

"You make a very cute couple."

Kurt smiled, grateful. "Thank you. Not a lot of people in Ohio get it, you know?"

Rachel nodded. "I do. I was raised by two fathers, so."

"Wow," Kurt said, impressed. "You know, you think you're not gonna meet a lot of LGBT citizens in a midwestern state like this, but even here, in boarding school, there's so many of us. I mean, Santana and Brittany have collectively dated almost every guy in our school, but you can tell that they're _together_, you know?"

Rachel nodded in agreement. "Definitely. They're inseparable. If Santana had a soul, I would say that Brittany was her soulmate."

Kurt laughed. "I have to agree. You and Quinn make an awfully cute couple, too. How long have you been dating?"

Rachel's eyes widened at Kurt and her jaw dropped. "We're not! Quinn and I are not-... I'm not a- I like boys!" Rachel stammered.

Kurt reeled back and held up his hands in surrender. "Sorry, my mistake!" he said, a knowing smirk still across his thin lips.

"Yes, it is," Rachel said, crossing her arms, "Quinn and I are just friends."

Kurt nodded, unconvinced. "And you like boys."

"Yes, I do."

"Right, well, do you have a dance for the homecoming dance?"

Rachel was taken aback. "Um, no."

"Well, then, if you like boys so much, let me set you up. My step-brother doesn't have a date, either."

Rachel pursed her lips and nervously peered back over at their table. She looked at Finn, a tall, brawny jock. Not necessarily her type, but there was no denying that he was traditionally good-looking and had a certain endearing charm. She then looked over at Quinn, who was leaned forward, her blond hair falling over her face but not covering her refreshing smile as she was deep in conversation with Sam, a bleach blond beach boy that was all too well suited for her.

"Fine," Rachel nodded, "Set me up. I would love to take Finn to the dance."


End file.
